Big Mouth
by fireballjunior2
Summary: If she would've just...stopped friggin talking...maybe she wouldn't have been snatched up and sold into some two-bit brothel. She could still be floating around space in her nice ship, merrily observing the stars and dreaming up Capsule Corp space expansion schemes. Yes, her big mouth was most certainly the root of all her problems ever.
1. Chapter 1

It was her big fucking mouth, Bulma suspected, that was the source of her troubles.

She could be on Earth right now, laying out like a lizard by the pool, if she hadn't quite boldly announced herself head of Capsule Corps new space exploration program, despite her fathers concerns.

Hell, if she would've stopped yammering on for just a fraction of a second maybe she would have heeded her father's warnings and just fucking not go to space on her own.

But, _noooooo_ , Bulma Briefs doesn't make an announcement to the world and just back out on it. Of course not. If Bulma Briefs says shes going into space as a one woman crew, than by golly shes going to go to fucking space all on her lonesome, to hell with everyone else!

She shifted in her restraints, ignoring the rhythmic movement she was being pushed to.

Hmf.

Back to her thoughts.

At the very least, Bulma mused, she could have just observed a planet and its inhabitants before making contact. That would have been the _smart_ thing to do.

But no.

Instead, she excitedly landed on the first planet she came upon and naively exclaimed: " Hi, I'm Bulma Briefs of Earth! ", to every alien that would lend her their equivalence of an ear, and proclaimed that she was a _very_ important woman from Earth.

That, "I'm pretty much a Princess where I'm from!", and ,"Nope. I traveled here all by myself. A genius like me can handle a ship like that on her own, no crew needed! Why do you ask?".

If she would've just... _stopped_ fucking talking...maybe she wouldn't have been snatched up and sold into some two-bit brothel. She could still be floating around space in her nice ship, merrily observing the stars and dreaming up Capsule Corp space expansion schemes.

Bulma clutched the silken ropes looped around her hands.

If she was going to be honest, running her mouth may have very well been the thing keeping her from getting back to Earth _right this second._

In theory, after the first two months of suddenly not hearing from Bulma, the whole Z-gang would eventually grow concerned and gather the Dragon Balls, wishing her back home safe and sound.

Well.

They _might_ have done all that.

But, in a rage, Bulma shrieked at Yamcha while all their friends looked on that she was going to be gone for MONTHS, maybe even YEARS in SPACE, and don't he DARE try to come and find her, don't he dare even try to TALK to her.

" In fact, NONE of you call me! None of you even THINK about me!", she had yelled while pointing an enraged finger at every single one of her friends, "And Yamcha?", this part, she remembered she said with such venom," You're SINGLE now."

" I'll be FINE.", she had angrily told a concerned Krillin, shoving him away from her. She didn't want anyone coming with her and DISTRACTING her. She was going to be VERY busy, and yes she could take care of herself, thank you very much, everyone could just go right on and fuck off because she was a genius and she didn't need help or big muscles, she had her _brains_.

And after the tirade she slammed the door on everyone's confused and very concerned faces. You know...for emphasis.

Bulma's head dipped forward in shame, head bobbing on her chest with each thrust.

Her friends...they were right to be concerned. She was a naive idiot.

She sighed in despair.

Or rather, she went to sigh and couldn't.

Because she was gagged.

Gagged, bound, blinded, and literally getting fucked _terribly_.

You see, instead of realizing she was at the mercy of whoever was running the brothel she was sold to, the very second Bulma stepped foot into Yungkt' Tudor Wat (she had no idea what the fuck that name stood for), Bulma would butt-heads with every big-shot she ran into. Every. Single. Time.

In a particular stroke of confidence, Bulma, rather saucily, told big boss Mr. Yanciel, the absolute worst person to even mildly irritate, to go fuck himself, all while customers looked on.

Without missing a beat, he had heatedly replied, " Eet eees yous who weels be fucked!", and proceeded to set up Bulma for a barbaric game of "Whats-Fucking-Me-Now?!". She could still see Mr. Yanciel rubbing his disgusting pinchers together evilly.

Uh-huh. Ohhhhh yeah. She was beginning to see a pattern here.

Her big fucking mouth was most certainly the root of all her problems _ever._

Okay.

It was settled then. If you want different results you gotta change a variable, and she was going to change alright. She would, from this moment on, be the quiet contemplative type. She would smartly assess every situation before adding her two cents. She would look before she leaped! She would-

Puke.

She wasn't sure WHAT exactly was shifting around down in her cooch, but she was pretty sure its half-assed ministrations brought itself to climax. Finally. Yuck.

At least someone was having a good time in this shit hole.

He couldn't believe he was in this shit hole.

Not that it was really a shit hole, according to Radditz.

Apparently Yungkt' Tudor Wat (or Legs Tits Ass in the galactic standard) was the finest establishment on this side of Planet Freiza 1307.

According to Radditz, this was the place to get the best of the best _of the best_ that was offered on this planet.

According to Radditz they would find "...the craziest hoes, Vegeta! They'll do shit for you that will fuck. you. up.", which was apparently a good thing.

From what Vegeta gathered, Yungkt' Tudor Wat was the nicest, cleanest, shiniest piece of shit one would find in the shit hole that was Planet Freiza 1307. And he was stuck here for the next night.

Vegeta sighed into his sweaty glass, and took a swig of his drink.

" Oh man! Oh shit! Look at the pinchers on this girl, I would loooove to get me some of that action."

He took another swig.

" I dunno Radditz...how do you know its a girl. "

He took another swig.

" Are you blind, man? Look at the size of that _thorax_ , Nappa, and you _try_ and tell me shes a man!"

He downed the whole thing.

" Yeah...I guess now that I look at it closer it does seem to be female. You could always just tear a hole in her thorax and fuck that, I hear thats customary fo-"

" _ANOTHER DRINK_.", Vegeta growled out as he threw his glass at the bartender. If he was going to suffer he was going to at least make a very good attempt at getting trashed and hopefully forgetting this whole train wreck of a night this was bound to become.

FUCK, he should have never fucking agreed to this.

He could have gone back on his word, told Radditz and Nappa that, actually, they _didn't_ deserve a night at a whore house. But nooooo, he was the Prince of all Saiyans, and the Prince of all Saiyans doesn't just go back on his word like that! He had _honor_. Ugh. He felt sick.

Another drink was placed before him, and Vegeta promptly knocked it back.

" ALRIGHT, VEGETA, YEAH! LETS GET CRAZ-", Vegeta punched Radditz in the face.

" Shut the fuck up, you fucking idiot. Hurry up and make your selection so we can leave this cesspool."

Radditz rubbed his cheek, and sulkily went back to looking at the catalog with Nappa.

Vegeta turned away from them, choosing to entertain himself with their surroundings.

For such a trashy place, this one was much nicer than some of the other brothels Nappa and Radditz dragged him into.

The Selecting Lounge they were currently sitting in was quite lavish on its own. There was a smokey haze filling the room and with the lights dimmed low it certainly made for quite the atmosphere.

All the sitting arrangements were plush and draped in red velvet, every seating area had a table not too far off and each table had a screen embedded in them for quick access to the digital catalog of whores that were available.

It was in this catalog that Radditz and Nappa unabashedly swiped through, only stopping to read the bio of one blue-haired whore.

" _Daaaaaaamn_ , 3347 must be getting punished, they got her senses cut off and shes totally gagged."

Vegeta's ear curiously perked at the comment. He turned on his bar stool, and tried to casually lean up against the bar counter at Radditz.

"What do you mean 'her senses' are cut off?", he asked as nonchalantly as he could.

Radditz wolfishly smiled, Vegeta wasn't fooling him. The Prince of all Saiyans had to be pretty buzzed to show interest in _anything_ , let alone the inner workings of a brothel.

" Ya know, her senses are blocked off. They'll put a particularly bad whore in this head-band shit that blocks out all sound and completely blinds 'em. Sometimes they'll gag them too. The idea is-"

" They can't see or hear what is happening, so they are left with an amplified sense of touch and the fear of not knowing what is happening. I'm familiar with the form of torture.", Vegeta finished.

They had some low-key Freiza level shit happening at this brothel, that was for sure.

" Its called a sensory-band my Lord. "

Vegeta rolled his eyes, " Shut up, Nappa."

" Anyway,", Radditz continued, "This girl must have pissed someone off. Normally they just put the band on their head and turn it on, rarely will they gag 'em too. They got this girl with all that shit, the gag, AND they have her tied up. "

Nappa squinted down at the catalog. " Why is she priced so high? Usually they discount the bitches they punish."

Vegeta peered over at the catalog screen, catching a glimpse of the girl they were talking about.

It was hard to make out anything with the provided image, but she appeared to be humanoid. He could clearly see the silver sensory-band clipped over her ears, and bulkily coming across her eyes. In her mouth was a bright red gag, and red rope was knotted and tied all along her body, restraining her legs and arms.

Vegeta squinted at the picture, the image quality was really shitty, was that blue hair cascading down her sides?

" Ohhhhhh. That makes sense. Shes an exotic, apparently. They even have her listed as a princess."

" Pffffft. Like hell they have a princess in this shit hole. What a fucking gimmick. They better have fucking papers for her if they fucking want _my_ 50,000 creds. Where do they have her listed from, _huh_? Because if its _anywhere_ in sector 3 I can fucking tell you _right now_ there is no and there has _never_ been any fucking royalty in sector 3!"

" Shut the fuck up, Nappa, God DAMN, its not like you fucking have to order her or anything. It says here shes from... _Eeeyyart_?"

" Earth. Its pronounced Earth. Thats funny, Radditz, your brother was sent there!"

" _Whaaaaaaat_? The fuck are you talking about?"

The two Saiyans yammered on, but Vegeta had tuned them out long ago and continued to stare down at 3347.

A Princess, huh? Either way, she was probably kidnapped or sold into slavery against her will. He knew the form of torture she was going through. Freiza had done something similar to him a number of times.

Of course, he hadn't been gagged or fucked, Freiza liked to hear him scream but it was from beatings, _thank God_ , and that was besides the point.

In Vegetas drunken stupor, he felt a kinship to this little nothing whore. It must have showed in his eyes, because Radditz started to look at Vegeta funny.

"You gonna get her your highness?"

 _Huh?_

" I saaaaaid: You gonna get her? or what? Nappa keeps bitching about her like he can even afford her-"

" I CAN afford her, but do I _WANT_ to afford her?! She seems like a rip off-"

" Shut UP, GOD. You're SPITTING everywhere. What do you even care! You're not even paying!", Radditz shoved Nappa harshly and turned back to the prince.

" Come on, Vegeta, you promised us the whole night and you might as well enjoy yourself while you're here! Besides, you're always talking about how you hate women who stare at you too much and how whores are too mouthy-"

" I NEVER said ANY of that."

"-and shes got a gag! And shes a _princesssss_..", he waggled his eyebrows," Its like she was meant for you."

He had a point.

Well, not with the princess part, there was no fucking way the owners of this place could ever dream of having a princess in this dump.

But everything else, Radditz made a good point. He was stuck here for the whole night, and he did hate...whore talk. And this one was blind-folded so he wouldn't feel as awkward as he normally felt-

"...85 for him, number 0032 for me and he'll be taking number 3347."

The waiter nodded and slid three cards through the device in her hands before looking back up at the group of Saiyans.

" I have numbers 2485, 0032, and 3347. Is that all for you tonight?", Radditz and Nappa nodded in unison while Vegeta gaped. _What the fuck._ Did he just fucking assume-

" Okay, Sirs, all together that will be...82,000 credits!", everyone turned and beamed at Vegeta. The prince snapped his mouth closed. He reached into his breast plate, and slammed his chip card onto the counter for the waiter to take.

He didn't like Radditz making decisions for him, not without truly consulting him first.

The waiter passed each man their respective key card and with a wink she very huskily said, " Enjoy.", before turning to tend to the next customer.

" Allllright VEGETA! YEAH. LETS-", Radditz got punched in the face. Again.

" Shut up."

He couldnt wait to get this over with.

She couldnt wait for this punishment to be over already.

It had been, what, two days now? Three? Its amazing how your sense of time just fucking disappears after a mere hour of absolute darkness. She hoped it had at least been longer than a day already, she couldnt imagine being tied up any longer.

The sex-with-hundreds-of-strangers part wasn't so bad, surprisingly. It actually didn't happen that often, and when it did sometimes it could be nice.

The other day ( _maybe_ ), she had someone ( _or thing_ ) touch her gently and in all the right places. She could have gotten off from it had they continued to touch her that nice, but lets be real here. She was a whore now, and you don't pay to get a whore off.

Whatever.

She could at least pretend it was some handsome princely beefcake copping a feel. Or princess. Bulma didn't really have a preference anymore, as long as whatever was touching her at least felt somewhat human.

Of course, sometimes it could be absolutely horrifying.

One of her more violent customers had cut her painfully above the breast with what she had hoped was a knife but could have just as easily been described as a talon. She couldnt be sure how bad the cut was, what with the sensory-band and all, but the amount of blood she felt trickling down her body was enough to make her shoot into a panic.

Luckily, Yungk't Tudor Wat took decent care of their...property.

After every visitor Bulma had, another worker would come in to check on her. After giving her a sponge bath (still gagged, blinded, and bound) they would assess her body. The cut she was given was apparently deemed bad enough to put her in a regen tank.

And now, here she was, rejuvenated and hung up with her legs spread so wide apart even the most promiscuous of women would blush, waiting for the next asshole with deep pockets to waltz in and fuck her again.

Thats fine.

This was all fine.

This was all going to work out! All she had to do was endure it, maybe even try to enjoy some of it, and once her punishment was up she would turn over a new leaf. Her big fat mouth wasn't going to get _her_ in trouble anymore!

Nope, she would be respectful to Mr. Yanciel, maybe even friendly, and when he least expected it she would fucking ditch this whole fucking planet.

'And once I'm back to Earth', she gleefully thought, 'I'll just gather all the dragon balls and wish for this whole thing to have never happened!' She chuckled around the gag.

Ah, yes, she was most definitely a genius.

Or she fucking lost her mind.

Whatever.

Sometimes you have to be insane to survive.

'This is insane.', Vegeta grasped his head in frustration.

He was wandering down the halls of the giant brothel, walking by all types of floozies and customers, looking for his assigned room number. Of course, he couldnt have been assigned a room that was close to the lounge.

No. His room was the last room down the second longest hall he has ever had the displeasure of walking down (the first being the obnoxiously long hall that takes you to Freizas throne room), and he only found the hall _after_ walking down an elaborate series of even smaller halls.

When he finally found his room his annoyance had sobered him up significantly.

He didn't like this.

He didn't like this whole situation one bit.

He should have _never_ tried to motivate his men with a promise of a night at a brothel. Who fucking knew you could get two of the universes slowest assholes to move faster than fucking light at the mere mention of the possibility of getting a piece of ass?

He should have never come here with them, should've just stayed near the pods.

He should have never showed interest in this whore, shouldn't have even considered Radditz suggestion of getting this tramp. If he hadn't just sat there in a drunken daze then Radditz wouldn't have had the chance to order him 3347 on the sly. Now he was 50,000 credits lighter than he needed to be and the situation was completely out of his control.

Sigh.

What the fuck was he supposed to do with a whore?!

He hated them.

He hated their dead eyes that screamed they were about to die of boredom, but still drank in his uniform and tried to milk him for more money. He hated how they made half-hearted comments about, "nnngh your dick feels soooo good", and how he could only hear greed and pity in their voices.

He hated how they touched him and grabbed him. He hated feeling them...

The whole thing, he hated the whole fucking thing, the whole act was one big ole shit show and for that he could just watch some space porn and be infinitely more comfortable. He just wanted to dump his seed and move on, not waste his time with some hooker!

'I suppose Radditz was right. Maybe 3347 was meant for me.'

3347 was bound, so she couldnt touch him with grubby hands. Gagged, so he couldnt hear forced gasps and unsolicited advice on how to fuck her. And he didn't even have to _try_ to not make eye contact, that was already taken care of.

Hell, if he got in at the right angle nothing but his dick had to touch her. Hmmmm.

He had already paid for her. He supposed he should at least go in and take a look. It wasn't like she was going to hear or see him come in, not with that dumb sensory-band. He could just sit in a chair if he didn't feel like fucking her, no one had to know.

He nodded.

He had a plan.

Everything was going to be fine now.

Vegeta slid the keycard into the doors locking device, when it pinged green he went inside.

He closed the door.

He looked up.

His eyes instantly landed on 3347, suspended from the ceiling and the intimate display of her pussy spread wide.

When you can't see or hear, all you can really do is smell and feel.

Bulma couldnt smell anything different, but through the ropes of her constraints she could feel the vibration of the door slamming shut. She perked up.

Would this customer have hands? Or tentacles? Or, _shudder_ , pinchers?

Would they be warm and gentle or rough and calculating?

Where would they touch her first, and would they savor her body inch by inch or jump right to dessert?

This part of the punishment...well it wasnt really punishment at all. It was really the only amount of fun Bulma could have in a situation like this. Who would fuck her today?

Even if it was for a second, it was nice to dream up of some prince of a fellow touching her passionately, making her feel good as much as he felt good. Worshipping her body, every inch, to the point he fell in love with it and whisked her away from her plight and took her on some extravagant adventure deep into the galaxy.

Some adventure that was so amazing and soul satisfying that even this whole stint at the brothel was worth it in the end. They would fall in love, and live happily ever after back on Earth.

Sigh.

It was her favorite fantasy, an old standby from when she was just a young girl. Now it served as the most wonderful distraction from her bleak reality. She needed something to hold on to.

Bulma snapped back to attention, and blushed deeply. She could swear she felt the intensity of someone elses gaze...looking right at her most private of parts.

She squirmed and tried to close her legs as much as her restraints would allow her, which was really nothing at all. She could feel the heat of her blush travel all the way down her body.

Bulma was on display, and her heartbeat shot up in anticipation.

Vegeta broke out in a sweat. What a vulgar display.

There in the middle of the room, daintily hung up over the large plush bed, was number 3347 spread wide and waiting.

Red silken rope was intricately tied all the way up her white skin, coming around her chest and lifting up her soft breasts in a harness. The rope wrapped and knotted ornately down her torso, and went between and down her thighs, hitching to be tied up to the hooks in the high ceiling that had her suspended. Her arms were tied together and pulled up, making her pert nipples point out.

And there, between her spread out legs, was number 3347's smooth pink pussy, boldly and prominently displayed.

He watched her suddenly take in a breath and wiggle a little. Her mouth clenched around the red gag, and her cheeks suddenly stained pink. Vegeta couldnt help but notice her blush travel down her body.

Maybe she sensed his presence?

He took a step closer to her...

..and made a bee-line to the assortment of alcohol on the side table.

Who was he fucking kidding, he couldn't fucking do this! What the fuck was this?! This was all just so.. _so sudden_! How was he supposed to just sit down and ignore her when she was displayed like...like _that?!_ And. _And_! He was pretty fucking sure she knew he was here, he saw her suddenly tense up the second he shut the door behind him. _Fantastic._

The Prince of All Saiyans, reduced to a panicking fool, at the mere sight of one whores genitalia.

He took a nice big gulp of the highest proof alcohol he could find.

'Okay, okay. Don't be such a cowardly shithead. You're the Prince of all Saiyans, for God sakes, fucking act like it. Why are you so flustered over one whore? So shes spread-eagle, so fucking what? Thats probably her natural state, right?! Don't be such a disgrace and chicken out, fucking do something!'

He took another swig of the bottle, and unclenched his fist.

He had options, he just had to make a decision. Thats all.

He could either fuck the girl, or sit the rest of the night, it didnt matter if she noticed him or not. The original plan was still on if he wanted it to be.

He turned back towards 3347, and hesitantly stepped closer to her.

'Maybe...', Vegeta eyed her suspiciously, '...maybe she _is_ a princess from Earth.'

He took in her appearance. She was definitely exotic. Long ocean hair and soft powder skin, her coloring was very unique. Vegeta had been dragged all over the galaxy, and the few humanoids he had run into had never had skin as pale as hers, or hair as brilliantly tinted.

Or maybe her coloring wasnt unique for an Earthling at all, and she was just some common peasant. He honestly didn't know Earth was a thing up until tonight.

He took another step towards her.

The picture in the catalog didn't really do her justice, if he was being honest. Her body looked supple and inviting. Her legs were long and her thighs and ass were thick.

He shook his head and went red. _Stop that._ This was just a recipient for his seed, who gave a fuck how she looked?

She was probably exactly like the handful of prostitutes Vegeta had: bored, boring, spectacularly mediocre. And slimey to the touch.

3347 was nothing special.

He boldly took a step beside her, and, trying to prove a point to himself, curiously dragged his finger down her thigh. She jolted at his touch, and her skin blushed pink.

Vegeta sucked in a breath.

She didn't feel the least bit slimey under his glove and...that look.

Maybe he was wrong (the sensory band was covering almost half her face afterall)...but she looked like she enjoyed his touch.

Bulma's heart was going to beat out of her chest any moment now.

Any fucking moment now, she was just going to go straight into cardiac arrest.

There was no fucking mistaking it, that was a gloved finger lightly trailing down her thigh.

That felt like a good, honest to God, human finger.

This was the best possible situation for her to be in, the ultimate fodder for her childish fantasy. Whether this customer was going to touch her lightly or slap her viciously, she really really wanted it all to be done by a human hand.

She paused.

'Now wait a minute...', her genius mind traveled elsewhere.

If this person was human...what were _they_ doing in deep space? _She_ was supposed to be the first woman, no, the first _human_ , to go deep space traveling-

Ohhhhh that felt nice.

The finger that had lightly trailed down her thigh had been joined by the rest of the hand, slowly feeling their way up the backside of her leg and pulling her back to the present.

The hand slid down once more, she could feel the goosebumps raising in their wake.

Who cares what they were doing in deep space, who cares if this person was even human!

Whoever was touching her now was lamenting in her body, and she could not have been more thrilled by the feel of whoevers large hands were running down her person.

She sighed dreamily around her gag, and allowed herself to be transported into her ultimate fantasy.

Her Prince was finally touching her.

The woman's mouth may have been gagged, but she was still talking to him, Vegeta was sure of it. The little whore's body was very telling.

As his hand went down her leg and over the ropes he watched her skin sing with goosebumps at his touch. When he trailed his hand back up, he watched her sigh a melody around the bright red ball in her mouth, and her hands unclenched the knot of rope they were holding.

He stopped his ministrations, and he could almost swear he saw her pout in protest.

He smirked.

Maybe it was the booze loosening him up, but this seemed a lot more entertaining than sitting in the chair all night.

He reasoned with himself.

He already paid the 50,000 creds for her, and when was the last time he relaxed and had a little fun? Why not indulge?

Besides, maybe not all whores were atrocious. Maybe Vegeta's bad hooker streak was finally coming to a break. Yeah! Maybe things were finally turning up Vegeta!

That was all the drunk persuasion he needed.

Vegeta bit the finger of his glove and pulled. When his bare hand collided with her skin, both their chests hitched with breath.

Who was the last person he felt without his gloves on? He couldn't recall.

Did everyones skin feel this soft and inviting?

Did everyone hum with electricity when touched?

His body was buzzed with alochol and her skin. It felt good, and somewhere in the back of his mind he began to understand why Radditz and Nappa must have frequented brothels and bars. This indulgence was the most decadent of escapes.

He caressed up the sides of her ribs and rested his hand on her full chest. He could feel her heart flutter. That he could make a heart beat so wildly from touch alone...he felt a swelling in his chest.

The unmistakable scent of arousal hit his nose. He smirked. She was indeed a little whore if she was getting riled up by just his hands.

He grabbed her generous hips, and pulled her core towards him.

Vegeta dipped down, and tasted her.

From her center and up towards her clit, Bulma felt the strangers rough tongue taste her cunt in one, slow, agonizing lick.

Her body's reaction was instantaneous. One long shiver tingled down her spine and she bucked.

She felt the strangers lips on her inner thigh vibrate with laughter and suddenly she was filled with embarrassment. She squirmed to move away but her Prince just grasped her hips tighter, dimpling her skin.

Immediately the tongue returned to lapping slowly at her pussy and Bulma let out a muffled needy groan at the heightened sensation.

The heat was building in her quickly, spreading through her body in a wave. With each wet trail traced around her clit Bulma gasped, and each breath her unknown guest sharply blew across her center resulted in full body trembles. She could feel herself, throbbing and wet, and she whined around her gag.

This person was undoing her with just their hands and tongue.

The tongue suddenly dipped inside her, with a gasp she thrusted forward and together, without a word uttered or a gesture needed between the two, they both found a rhythm. He would slip inside, drawing out her juices with his curved tongue, and she would raise herself to meet her Prince, over and over, vulgarly thrusting and shaking her protruding hips forward in a blatant request for more.

She could feel it.

In the silence and velvet darkness all she _could_ do was feel. She was acutely aware of the stars that were beginning to form in the black before her eyes, aware of the tell-tale feeling of exquisite pressure finally reaching its limit.

She was close to exploding and she whimpered and drooled around her gag pitifully.

Her body was so beautifully imploring for its small death. And suddenly her cruel Prince denied her.

All at once everything stopped. There was no tongue roughly tasting or hands greedily touching.

And Bulma was thrown back into the unknown, no sight or sound to learn from, only the feeling of her body dully humming with unfulfilled lust.

Vegeta's body was a symphony of nerves.

Every fiber of his being was singing with want and he felt control slipping further than he intended. He was rapidly sobering up and his thoughts were desperately trying to regain composure.

The creature beneath him was dripping with need, because of him, for him, and he felt himself painfully strain against his armor at the sight.

What the fuck was he supposed to do from here?

He only meant to pass the time teasing her for a short while, but now he found he was enjoying torturing the little woman a bit too much. Who would have known that making someone squirm with agonizing pleasure could be so addicting?

Now Vegeta found himself at a crossroads. He could listen to what his brain was screaming at him to do, regain control and his self-worth and get the fuck out of here.

Or he could be honest with himself and do what he wanted to do.

He could reach over and knock 3347's restraints from her hooks. Remove her gag, and throw her on the mattress. Watch her soft little body bounce from the force, before he reached for her arms and roughly enter her while he held her down.

He could plunge into her over and over, shoving her further and further into the silky sheets. Make her scream so loud that the sound would echo down the absurdly long hallway, letting every worker within ear shot, every customer mid-fuck, stop and listen to the little whore crying and drowning in absolute pleasure.

Vegeta broke out in a sweat. These visions were going to give him a heart attack.

Fuck. It was blaringly obvious. He shouldn't. He really really shouldn't take part in this any longer. The prince turned away from 3347.

He hesitated, slightly turning towards her once more. What was the big deal? One night of indulging in velvety skin and slick folds..

His raging erection clouding his better judgment was the big fucking deal, he should be leaving this place! For fucks sake, what the hell was wrong with him?!

He was _never_ this indecisive, _never_ this hesitant! If this was a battlefield he would be dead.

A few minutes of dicking around and he became completely undone. If this was a Saiyan trait it was no fucking wonder his whole fucking race died, the lot of them probably had their heads up their asses and their dicks leading the damn way.

Vegeta briskly turned around once more, determined to make it to the door and down the halls. He owed it to his dumb dead race to show a little restraint.

After the first three steps...he stopped. He heard her, whimpering around the gag pitifully, pulling against her restraints. He could smell her sweet honeyed arousal filling the room, and if he turned around he would see her spread wide and slick for him.

He had made it to the door, he stood triumphant and ready to slide the key card so he could leave.

But his traitorous ears perked up.

She wasn't whimpering, he realized, she was trying to form syllables around the red ball in her mouth.

She was trying to call to him.

In a moment of weakness and curiosity, Vegeta floated back to 3347, his mind screaming at him that if he didn't leave this instant he was doomed to spend the rest of the night in this dimly lit room.

He reached for her gag anyway, and sealing his fate, he removed the red ball from her mouth, a trail of saliva connecting them for a moment before snapping.

The room tensed.

In a feminine voice, raspy with disuse and honeyed with lust, 3347's pouty lips formed the only string of words to bring Vegeta to his knees.

" P-please. Stay and fuck me, my Prince."

Vegeta dropped the gag.

She was lost. Lost and floating in darkness, her mind clinging to her only escape in months, her humiliatingly childish fantasy.

If this was back on Earth Bulma would've cut out her own tongue before admitting she still dreamed of a Prince, let alone beg some stranger to fuck her into oblivion while she _called_ them her Prince.

But this wasn't Earth.

And lost in her little haze, her pride gone and her identity lost, Bulma forgot her earlier reverie, and her recent resolve to think before she talked.

Instead she opened her mouth, and into her perceived darkness, Bulma pleaded.

" My Prince? P-please don't go...please..", she boldly thrusted her hips, "... _fuck me_."

She bit her lip, she could feel her whole body blush and she gripped the ropes tied around her.

She needed those hands on her body again, she would trade anything for that sinful tongue to dip back into her. She would be devastated, humiliated beyond redemption, if she was shaking her hips to an empty room.

Suddenly, Bulma felt herself plummeting down.

Her panic was quickly replaced with realization, as she bounced and settled into the mattress below her.

Her Prince was answering her.

The alcohol had waned. The storm of indecisive thoughts had finally subsided.

Vegeta had made his decision.

In the morning to come, he would most certainly berate himself for losing control, for indulging in something more than just a quick bodily release.

A soldier didn't have time to relax. A warrior didn't need to feel.

But for now, in the privacy of the dimly lit room, he decided to forget his duty as a soldier, a warrior, a Saiyan.

Vegeta was a Prince, and a Prince did what he liked.

He loosened the slick ropes, ran his hand down the woman's ribs, put his ear against her plush chest and he shoved his finger into her softness.

He listened to her gasp, the breath turning to a throaty moan. He heard her pleasure vibrate through her whole body. He could feel her heart beat hard against his cheek.

He put in another finger.

She gasped again, her head falling back against the pillows, sensory band still in place, the inhaled breath causing her to tighten around the fingers. She moaned, longer and louder than before, and Vegeta smirked against her breast. He curved his fingers and her voice hit a higher pitch. He was making music out of her.

As he slowly slid his fingers out and pumped them forcefully back in, Vegeta undid the silk rope around her wrists with his free hand. The little whore instinctively wrapped her arms around Vegeta, hands hitting his armor hard.

She was grasping at him, biting down on her lip trying to keep quiet. Vegeta took notice.

" No no no..", he removed his fingers from inside her, bringing them to her mouth to pry her lips open, " I didn't remove your gag just for you to keep those moans in. "

He undid his lower armor, released himself from his spandex restraint.

Vegeta positioned himself over her, his cock pressing against the entrance of her pussy, " I want to hear you. ", he murmured into her mouth. He pushed himself inside her.

Her shriek bounced off the walls, the pleasure evident in her strained scream.

He picked up the pace.

Her cunt clung to him each time he pulled out, clenched around him each time he pushed in, and each time 3347 shrieked without fail, each scream so impossibly loud that the noise surely pierced through the wall for everyone to hear.

Vegeta's senses were overloaded with pleasure, and very faintly he was aware of the little whore beginning to babble a small chant. "Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease", she arched her back, gasping, drool oozing out the side of her mouth, "Pleasepleaspleaseeeennnnnghh", she pushed her hips forward, meeting Vegeta's every thrust, she was getting tighter, " pleaaaase, my Prince...nnnnghh.", she was obviously close. He would answer her pleads.

He grasped her hips, fingers digging into her skin, and slammed himself inside her, fucking her roughly until she suddenly moaned throaty and deep. He felt her pulse her orgasm around him, milking his cock into his own throbbing release.

He collapsed onto his forearms, his brow just hovering over 3347's sensory-band. The Prince's body was humming pleasantly, and he felt a sense of satisfaction he never felt before.

Vegeta couldn't remember what he was so worried about, and he supposed it didn't matter.

He had made the right decision in the end.

Bulma couldn't remember where she was.

The sensory-band around her head provided a silence and darkness so endless that she was only acutely aware of her body. She could still feel her orgasm hitting her in gentle waves, the pleasure pulsing from her tender pussy up to the tippy top of her head.

She was only vaguely aware of the bed beneath her dipping down, sheets shifting and caressing her skin, the beds slight bounce as someone moved to get up.

No doubt, her Prince was putting his clothes back on, and was making to leave.

In her minds eye, she could see him pulling the gloves back on, shifting what she thought to be armor back in place, she could see him standing up, his back facing her. She imagined him there, standing defiantly, confidently, and finally, he was forever ingrained in her imagination as her new fantasy. Her dark rough Prince.

She blindly sat up. She meant to say something to him, a plea to stay, a request for him to at least visit her again, or even a heartfelt _thanks for the great fuck_ , but a very undignified croak came out from her throat instead. Bulma felt the heat of a blush on her cheeks. All that screaming and moaning had worked her throat raw.

The one time she really, really, _really_ had to say something, and she fucking lost her voice.

The irony was not lost to her.

She felt a hand cup her cheek, and lips ( _very_ soft lips, she noted) press against her cheek. She felt the mouth talk against her skin, their message lost to the sensory-band.

And then...nothing.

She was sure, after a time, that the door and finally shut. She was alone.

And she felt...cheated.

Everything had fallen into place, her fantasy was almost perfectly fulfilled, except...her Prince was a fucking moron. Anger was bubbling inside her. Surely he could see the gigantic fucking band wrapped around her fucking head?!

He must be a sadistic asshole, leaving her to forever wonder what the fuck he said.

She screamed in frustration, but only felt a pitiful and painful croak come out.

Well, at least she couldnt talk herself into anymore trouble.

The sun finally peaked up from beyond the horizon of Planet Frieza 1307.

In a spectacular twist of events, Radditz was the first to touch down near the space pods. He stumbled towards the pods, bracing himself against the cool metal surface of one.

He decided, after a long inner debate, to wait outside for the rest of his comrades instead of slipping into the comfort of his pod. This was the first time Vegeta wasn't waiting for _him_ , and he wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do in this kind of a situation. He wasn't about to get comfy in the pod, only to get dragged out and beat for not following " _proper Saiyan_ _protocol"_.

After some time, Vegeta was the second to return, landing gracefully on the ground. Radditz noticed the prince looked more relaxed than normal. He decided to attempt a conversation.

" I have...so many regrets.", Radditz groaned, " I think I misjudged that thorax...".

Radditz turned his arms, " ...at least the pinchers didn't do much damage..the cuts are already healing."

Vegeta didn't mutter a word. Not surprising.

" Soooooo...how was 3347?", he started again," Was that her shrieking I heard bouncing off the walls of the whore house!?", he wiggled his eyebrows at the prince.

"...hnn."

So it was 3347.

" ALRIGHT VEGETA, YEAH. She sounded WILD. Did you remove the gag!? Ohhhh man I bet you regretted _that,_ who knew she would be such a loud mouth! Lemme guess, you were going to replace her ball-gag with some balls of your-", he felt the collision of the Princes fist, hard and unforgiving, and then felt the gritty dust of the ground under his face.

Radditz groaned in agony. He heard the Prince silently get into his pod, leaving Radditz on the ground, cursing his big mouth.

Hey! Just wanna take a second to thank you for reading this fanfic. I know there are hundreds of fics out there, and it really means something to me that you took the time to read this one in its entireity (at least I hope!)

This is actually my first fanfic, so it would really mean a lot if you could leave a review and some constructive criticism. I'm particularly interested in any feedback regarding the flow of the story, as I personally felt at times it may have come across a bit choppy. Also grammar. I'm really bad at grammar, please help me ;_;

I originally wrote this as a one-shot, but as I was editting this I came up with a pretty solid path to continue this story on, so if there is good amount of interest I might move foreward with this! If not, feel free to follow me, I have a lot of other stories I want to write (almost exclusively of vegXbul) that I will eventually post up on here.

Again, thank you so so SO much for you time!


	2. Chapter 2

Vegeta was convinced Radditz was a complete fucking idiot.

The first time Radditz screamed that it was "Vegeta's Bodacious Sex-venture", Vegeta was sure he permanently altered Radditz face with an imprint of his fist.

The second time Radditz whispered about "Vegeta's Radical Sexual Awakening" to Nappa, Vegeta was quite certain he had left Radditz at death's door.

This was the new routine for the past two months. Radditz would hurriedly whisper some vulgar quip, and Vegeta would beat Radditz face into a bloody pulp.

At this point Radditz had a very intimate relationship with Vegeta's fist, and as far as the Prince could see Radditz was either immortal (please, God, no.), or about to enter a committed relationship with his hand (!).

Both thoughts left the Prince deeply disturbed.

"SoooOooOOoooOo."

"So WHAT, Radditz?"

"So WHAT are you DOING tonight?"

Vegeta's eyebrow twitched.

"WE are going to finish this fucking purge, and move onto the next purge. Same as always.", he let off a ki blast, hitting a spherical building in the distance. The faint sounds of rubble clattering down and screams carried across the wind to the three Saiyans, signifying the start of the final cleansing of the planet.

"SooOooOooo. After we finish here...no pit stops? Are ya SURE?", if Radditz wiggled his eyebrows any faster they would fly off his fucking face.

Vegeta silently shot off the ground, and flew towards the last standing city on the whole planet. As he approached the nostalgic dust cloud of screams and chaos, his mind traveled off to days gone by.

Once upon a time, Vegeta liked to read up on the planets he was getting sent to.

In his little space pod, built special for a little prince, Vegeta would pull up the Galatic Database and set it for audio. His eyelids would often become heavy with sleep as the computer read off everything from the ecosystem to the different cultures of the planet, until the Prince curled his tail around himself and he dreamt of all the different aliens he would meet one day as King.

Vegeta was a smart child. It only took him three purge missions to realize that learning about the planets he was visiting gave _meaning_ to the planets he was visiting. And that made him... _feel_..things.

It was after the asteroid destroyed Vegetasai that the little Prince stopped reading about the planets all together.

In fact, after the asteroid, Vegeta checked out entirely, choosing to throw himself into mission after mission, with the aimless goal to get stronger.

That had been the routine for years. Snatch up every mission avaliable. Endure, thrive, get stronger.

This served the prince well into his adult years, resulting in him becoming an Elite with a sharp mind and considerable power level.

And numb. Vegeta became very numb.

He became oblivious to the bitter smell of burnt flesh, he was barely aware of the oxide taste of blood in the air, or the premeating smell of shit and urine from dead alien bowels releasing. Tear sodden faces and pleas tumbling from lips didnt even create a pause in Vegetas work. He blocked it all out.

Vegeta had become a machine, cold with a definite function. Exisiting with only a specific task: Survive.

But then, well shit, then Vegeta became self aware.

It was a look that changed him. A hesitation, on his part.

Two months to the day, they had been sent to a shitty little planet with an even shittier climate. The heat and humidity mingled and sat uncomfortably on the skin. The planets sun let off a sepia light, and the ground sunk in a little with each step. Why Freiza had wanted this absolute pile of fucks was beyond Vegeta.

From the get go, Vegeta had unsavory feelings about the little planet. The second the saiyans touched down Vegeta was ready to leave.

He wanted to finish the purge fast. He split the jobs up amongst himself and his men.

"I'll take care of the central city.", he said, "Nappa will take care of the outskirts. Radditz, scout the secluded areas, Nappa will join once he is done. And remember: No. Survivors."

The men nodded, they all took off, and within an hours time Vegeta landed into the only city the entire planet had to offer. Instantly, Vegeta's face split into a cold mechanical grin, and he extended his arm in front of him as if he were on auto-pilot.

He had started things off with a ki-blast.

He always did. Something about pure energy obliterating a physical structure helped set the pace.

In manic response, the people started running. The customary reaction.

Arms covered in thick fur waved frantically as furry legs pounded on the ground in a desperate attempt at putting distance between them and Vegeta. The people were a blur of limbs moving under light tunics, and you could catch glimpses of their panicked humanoid faces from beyond their bushy black hair.

Had these people had a tail, had they worn warriors clothes, they could have passed for some weak Saiyan abomination, and it was for that reason Vegeta slaughtered them with a quickened malicious pace.

One hour in and Vegeta was already blasting away walls and entering buildings.

Previous missions dictated that it took at least threes hours to thin out the population in a city before you had to start going into buildings and hunt out stow-aways.

These creatures, however, were obscenely weak sniveling things, making Vegeta's job easier.

Vegeta blasted through a wall, he turned a corner, the scouter pinged, "Psh, Only 384? Weak disgusting creature.", he sent out a burst of ki. He moved into the next building.

He turned, the scouter pinged, and he killed, leaving a trail of the dead behind him, continuously moving in and out of buildings until he found himself in an ornate little castle.

"This shit ball of a planet has royalty? Hilarious."

When he was done, the high-classed people of the castle would be the same as the rest of the peasants who suffered before them: dead.

He had almost been giddy going down the castle halls, Vegeta had been known to be a bit more...creative...with royalty. Perhaps a Freudian slip.

He would stalk from room to room, letting the scouter guide him. He almost always found them hiding, cowering, in some ridiculous and obvious spot.

Some, he would drag them by their legs or hair into the hallway, their wails echoing off the walls. These ones, he would kill slowly, sometimes with ki shots to only the extremeties, and left to bleed out as a screaming, crying, stump.

The ones that would run out from hiding he would kill a little faster. A shock of ki to a vital organ would let them die within a (merciful) two minute panic.

But the royals. The actual royals he liked to be cruel with.

He had found them in the throne room, cowering together like weak little children, holding each other with their trembling furry arms, clinging onto each others silk robes.

Vegeta always killed the King first.

He laughed and the second he took a step toward the group, the King moved to stand in front of his wife and child. His power level went up 50 points. A good show of courage.

Vegeta stepped forward and with one fluid motion grabbed the Kings head, turning his skull around its neck till it snapped, facing the King's head toward the beloved wife.

Vegeta paused, "Take a last look.", and beamed two blasts from each of his hands, the King's skull and brain matter erupting and spattering onto anything within a 10 foot radius.

The Queen didnt even sputter.

Shoving her child aside she lunged at Vegeta, a laughable weapon in her hand.

Without missing a beat, Vegeta made eye contact with the remaining royal in the room, the Prince, as he shoved his fist through his mothers stomach and out the other side.

He had stretched out and wiggled his fingers at the boy in a sick gesture of greeting.

The Queen's body flopped over his arm, the weapon she held slipped out of her dying hand, clattering to the ground.

And this, this is where everything went off course.

A hundred purge missions of experience told Vegeta that the boy was supposed to start shaking, fall to his knees, cry and cry and cry without realzing Vegeta was closing in for the kill. His last word would either be a nasally hiccup of Mama or Papa.

Instead, he merely looked at his parents remains.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

The words so soft it could have been a breeze wafting by.

And, Vegetasai be damned, the Saiyan was caught off guard. He hesitated.

The boys eyes began to water, a ferocious tremble went through the childs body, "I have nothing."

Four syllables, familiar and uncomfortable, rang in Vegeta's ear.

"I have NOTHING."

The words echoed off into the room, piercing the silence. Once upon a time, Vegeta said these words.

"I HAVE NOTHING."

The scouter started beeping wildy, the boys power level shot up.

"IHAVENOTHINGIHAVENOTHINGIHAVENOTHINGIHAVENOTHING."

The boy lunged at Vegeta.

And Vegeta...didnt even move. Stunned still at the chant he knew so intimately, at the scene he had performed himself, so many years ago..when an asteroid collided with his home.

Little fists barreled down on the front of his chest, rattling the armor but not causing even an ounce of discomfort.

"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW? YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME."

Finally, Vegeta grasped the boy by his neck, lifted him to eye level, where the boy's eyes bore into his soul.

"I HAVE NOTHING."

And Vegeta was not looking at an alien little boy from a far away planet.

Vegeta was looking at himself, a tiny prince shaking with anger and fear and helpness, holding his small boy self at the throat, and his little boy lips suddenly snarled back and he chanted, "MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER.", spitting and roaring with such ferocity as if the small cub in his hands thought he was being held by Freiza himself, and for a moment Vegeta felt that he _was_ Freiza, and finally, after an eternity of living in that moment with his heart racing and blood pumping pure ice, Vegeta snapped his neck.

The boy crumpled to the ground.

A single tremble tingled down Vegeta's body.

Suddenly he noticed the smell of shit and urine.

He could taste blood.

He could see the chunks of flesh and fur on his armor, a bright red contrast to the grimey white.

He could _feel_ the moment, nestling into the back of his brain as a permanent, pivotal, memory.

And it was then that Vegeta, the killing machine, finally became aware of what he was _really_ becoming. And he wasnt so sure he wanted to be a machine anymore.

The silence lingered on until Vegeta very suddenly couldnt stand another moment of it, and sent out a call on the scouter.

"Are you fools DONE? We have spent FAR too long on this blasted planet.", he hoped his voice was even and harsh, just as it always had been.

"Meeeeeeeeeh.", the usual response from Radditz.

"Give me but 3 hours, Prince Vegeta, and I'll be ready to join Radditz.", Nappa's routine cover-up for his slow moving ass.

And suddenly, Vegeta realized with clarity, that the routine had been momentarily broken.

And now, well, now he had a choice.

He could give Nappa the three hours. Finish out the purge. Return to Freiza. Rinse. Repeat, until the day's experience turned into a numb distant memory that would surface every few years, a nameless planet and an unknown prince haunting a night's rest.

Or he could continue to break away from the routine.

He could do what he really wanted to do. Get off the filthy planet once and for all. Get far _far_ away from the corpses of the royals and...something. He wasnt sure where to go from there.

All he knew for certain, was that he was presented a fork in the road, and he was tired of following the same beaten path.

Vegeta pressed the button on his scouter once more.

"No. How about this. How about you both FINISH within the next hour."

"BUT VEGET-"

"NO. Listen. Finish within the next hour, and you'll both be rewarded."

A suspicious silence had fallen over the scouters.

Normally a well placed threat would produce fair results. If Vegeta threatened for a job to be done in an hour, he could expect to be back in the pods within two.

But Vegeta really, really, REALLY wanted off the planet.

He had to pull out the big guns.

"Finish within the hour..and I will pay for a night at a neighboring planets brothel."

More silence.

Then, "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS OH MY GOD YAAAAAAS.", followed by,"FUCKYEAHFUCKINGALRIGHTYEAH".

They finished with 45 minutes to spare.

It was with that carnal screech, and Vegeta's regrettable plea bargain, that marked the very beginning of Vegeta's long terrible streak of almost certainly awful, definitely drunken, decisions.

(Or "Vegeta's Desperate Sexcapade's", according to Radditz.)

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

It had been roughly two months since anyone had touched Bulma, not that she was complaining.

"C'MERE BITCH TITS AN' TAKE ME'S ORDER!"

Okay, maybe she was complaining a little.

You can't go from being an extremely wealthy genius who called all the shots, to a very expensive and prestigious intergallatic prostitute, to being demoted to what was essentially a waiter with a barely there uniform... and not feel just a teensy bit scorned.

Bulma was, technically, still a whore at Yungt Tudor Wat, but after losing her voice for nearly two weeks she was very succesful in keeping her mouth shut, nose clean, and getting in good graces with Mr. Yanciel.

She somehow got the bug all buttered up, and was able to talk her way into getting put to work in the Selecting Lounge, and Bulma had two VERY good reasons for wanting to work in the lounge.

First reason: the lounge was where Bulma had the easiest and least conspicious access to the digital catalog of whores.

The Catalog was a stupid fucking program, and Bulma was convinced Mr. Yanciel and his tiny insect brain must have come up with it.

Things that should have been secure (price adjustments, personal files, the coding to the actual fucking program), were a cinch to access, even for a foreigner like herself.

Simple things, on the other hand, were not fucking simple at all. Bulma needed a 10 digit passcode and the last four of Mr. Yanciel's social just to change the color scheme of the front page (and it was a reaaaally ugly color scheme.).

Removing herself from the catalog proved to be tricky, but TRIPLING her worth was easy. Some asshole had to be PRETTY fucking rich if they wanted a night with THE Bulma Briefs.

So far, no one proved to be Mr. Money-Bags, or at least, they didnt want to drop stacks on her specifically.

"So I have...number 5425 for you, 5426 for him...and numbers 345 and 446 for you, Sir. Will that be all?", Bulma tentaively asked the booth of grey aliens. Until Mr. Money-Bags came strolling in with a taste for blue haired humans, Bulma was but a humble taker of orders.

One grey alien grumbled his slit of a mouth.

"Two whores, Souza? TWO? We's agreed we's would all only gets ONE."

The other grey blinked his enormous black eyes across the table, before furrowing his hairless brow.

"So I wants two! So whats!? Gets off my case, Sza, Im's payins anyways!"

The very last grey sniggered and rubbed its nose slits with one very long, too-many jointed finger.

"Lets hims gets the two Sza, he's cant last for mores than a minutes anyways!"

The two greys erupted in high pitch laughter, while the other balked.

Bulma rolled her eyes. Who would've fucking thought the general public were idiots even in SPACE?

As the grey trio continued to hash it out with one another, Bulma held her tongue, tuned them out, and turned her attention outward.

The second reason for wanting to be put to work in the lounge? Information.

Having her voice gone to shit really gave Bulma the much needed oppertunity to brush up on her listening and observational skills.

Initially she just wanted to get an idea for what she was dealing with, what kind of shit-show she was actually starring in. Her ultimate hope was to come up with some kind of escape plan, she just needed to assess the situation.

Bulma found something more...interesting.

Yungt' Tudor Wat had thousands of aliens of all biology and anatomy strolling in on the daily, each from insanely differing backgrounds, cultures, and (she assumed) planets.

But more often than not, when Bulma listened she heard a name, only spoken in hushed tones and urgent whispers, passing the lips, the slits, the holes, of thousands of different aliens on the daily.

"-m Freiza."

She turned her eyes away from the booth of greys (who were still flapping their mouth slits), and casually looked over at a pair of armor wearing knock-off Piccolos.

"Not so fuckin' loud, you moron, someone will hear you!", the some-what green man (more teal than anything.) quickly glanced around, his foot long antennas twitched suspiciously.

Bulma quickly turned back to the booth of obnoxious greys, but kept her attention with the armored pair at the bar.

"Sorry.", the other green alien's antenna twitched sheepishly, "I just...we need to get away from...you know...we need to figure out somewhere to take our people, we need to ru-"

"Where, Dintzu?", the other interuppted, "Where the hell do you propose we run? He controls the whole universe! He will either destroy us now, or destroy us later on whatever planet that we hid on. I'd rather stay and die with dignity."

Bulma's mouth went dry.

From the snippets of info the heiress was able to glean, it was becoming increasingly obvious that there was a threat out here in deep space, and she needed to get home _quick_.

"Heys whore! Are yous listeniiiiiin'!?", the little grey alien at the booth shattered Bulma's thoughts.

"Speaks slowly, Souza, whores are stoooopid."

"Eheeheeheehee!", the whole booth chittered with laughter, disgusting lip slits vibrating, "Stooooopids! Stoopids! Stoopids!"

Her teeth would shatter if she gritted them down any harder.

'Reign the anger in, girl, don't blow this good behavior streak on a bunch of Roswell shitheads.'

Bulma closed her eyes, took a breath, and fluttered her eyelashes at the hideous trio.

"My goodness, I am sooooo so sorry!", her tone dripped in sugary sweetness, "I just- uh..got distracted by your...uh..", she paused.

'Come on, girl, diffuse the tension with a compliment! Think of something quick!'

Bulma looked at the grey aliens, took in their nose holes and mouth slits, and tried not to visibly show disgust when she noticed the size of their eyes compared to their bulbous leathery heads.

"Just, uh, distracted by your...handsome argument.", she finished lamely.

A pregnant pause.

The trio blinked their slimey black eyes at Bulma.

Bulma surpressed a gag.

The Selecting Lounge continued to buzz with life all around them while the four continued to blink at each other.

And finally, "Eheeheeheehee. Handsomes, huh?"

"Ohhhh shes thinks we's handsomes!"

"Ohhhhhhh we's should show hers how handsome we's cans beeee!", the grey called Souza (or maybe it was Sza, they looked completely identical) leaned in towards Bulma's chest, looking at the holograph pin prominently displayed.

"Ohhhhh numbers 3347! I likes those numbers!"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh!"

"Ohhhhhh eheeheeheeeeee! Stoopid thinks we's handsoooome!"

Bulma could feel her soul already trying to claw its way out of her body at the very notion of having to bed these three morons. Her eyes darted all over the lounge, if she was quick she could probably find a knife to end herself with.

"Ohhhhhh ehheeheehee! We's gonna show 3347 a goods tiiiiiiime!"

Perhaps a candle. With a little effort Bulma was certain she could find a way to completely set herself on fire.

Her eyes darted every which way. There wasnt a candle or a knife in sight.

"S-so..", Bulma started quickly, "..So thats three whores for Mr. Souza?"

Another pause.

And then: "THREE WHORES, SOUZA? WE'S AGREEDS ON ONES EACH!"

The booth erupted with angry chittering, while Bulma sighed warily, relieved to distract the lot of them.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The dust and smoke was finally beginning to settle from what Vegeta could make out from the hill they waited on.

Any moment now, Nappa would be returning and confirming the official end of their mission.

"SooooOOoooOOoooo...", Radditz annoying voice cut through the silence, "Ya never got back to me."

Vegeta gritted his teeth. Any minute now.

"Any...pit stops...after this?"

ANY fucking minute now, Nappa would be touching down.

"Because we finished with _plenty_ of time to spare.."

ANY. MINUTE.

"...annnnnnd I COULDN'T help but NOTICE that we are only a stone's throw away from Planet 1307."

Vegeta wasn't even facing Radditz but he KNEW, hell he could HEAR, those TERRIBLE EYEBROWS wiggling obnoxiously on Radditz big dumb face.

"We could hit up Yungt' Tudor Wat, or I know this other place, a real hole in the wall-"

"NAPPA!", Vegeta shouted a little too eagerly, "Er..What TOOK so long, you fucking idiot?"

The big bald saiyan floated down toward the other two men, "Nothing, Prince Vegeta...I...took the same amount of time I always take.."

Shit. Did he? Vegeta was losing control of the situation fast, his men could probably tell how flustered he was! He needed to regain his composure. Quick! Do something!

He suddenly punched Nappa hard, knocking him back into the air.

"Are you saying that I CAN'T TELL TIME?" Smooth.

"N-NO! NOT AT ALL, MY LORD!", Nappa groveled.

Vegeta glared at him expentently.

"I..WAS...uh..taking a piss?", that earned Nappa another punch in the face.

"DISGUSTING. Next time you HOLD IT IN."

Control had been regained! Mostly.

Radditz wasn't the only one to notice how close to planet 1307 they were, and with the non-stop pestering from Radditz (and Nappa, though a bit more subtly), Vegeta was feeling all types of pressured.

It wasn't that he didn't want to go. Matter of fact, Vegeta was DYING to go, he just didnt want his men to know that.

The first time he got dragged to Yungkt' Tudor Wat it opened up the flood gates, and since then after almost every single mission Vegeta had been drowning out his thoughts in that "sweet pootang", as Radditz called it.

Every brothel within a space pods hop, the Saiyans visited. Vegeta had bedded up to 7 different species at this point, and each lay had been...interesting.

Each girl he fucked ended up endowing him with something by the end of the night...sometimes a mental scar, a physcial scar at least twice, but each one left him feeling some what satisfied. They had all been adequate lays.

And that was all. Adequate.

None had left him as disatisfied as the girls from yester-year, sure. But none had left him with his skin buzzing and his soul begging for more like the blue haired one. Every whore he had after 3347 served as the temporary distraction he needed, but none of them were really what he craved.

But now...he was realizing this was becoming the new routine, and that didnt sit well with him.

Vegeta found that his thoughts often traveled back to the furry boy, and those hateful eyes, the way he had morphed into himself, spitting venom, crying out that chant. The feeling of becoming, of being, Freiza.

He had known then he had to make a change, he was just uncertain if fucking every whore he could afford was an honorable replacement of his previous endeavors.

This was just another distraction, and not a very good one at that.

He needed something more.

"Vegeta."

The prince turned and met the intense stare of Radditz. Vegeta suddenly felt exposed under the other saiyan's gaze, as if he had lost track of time and Radditz had seen each thought and worry play blatantly across his face.

"Vegeta...", Radditz stepped forward, tentatively, and placed his large hand on the prince's shoulder in a sign of comfort, "...think of the ass Vegeta. The ASS."

Vegeta violently shoved Radditz off him.

"NAPPA.", Nappa flinched at the Prince's bark, "Is it clear?"

Nappa trembled a little and nodded his head yes, "N-no survivors, m-my Lord!"

"Get in..", Vegeta nodded his head towards the pods, "We're going to Yungkt' Tudor Wat."

He needed to put an end to this.

No more distractions.

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Bulma flopped down on her bed.

Well, technically, it wasn't her bed.

The room Bulma claimed as her own was the notorious "way back back-room', which resided allllll the way at the end of a series of very elaborate hallways. At one point this room HAD to have been a storage space, it was the only explanation on why it was so far off from the rest of the rooms.

Because the room was so out of the way, the room rarely got used (Bulma's prior "punishment" being the last official event to take place in the room.), and no-one bothered to actually check the room despite mandatory cleansliness inspections.

It made the perfect hiding spot.

Bulma rolled onto her back, palming her new found item.

When the trio of chattering grays fucking FINALLY shut up and made their final selections (thankfully NONE of those selections actually being Bulma), the one called Sza (or perhaps Souza) left behind a little sack of...something.

Technically, it was a punishable offense not to report any found goods to the front desk, but curiousity and her rebellious nature got the better of her.

Bulma really wanted to know what was in the sack.

Gingerly, she pulled on the leathery flap and proceeded to dump the entirety of the little sacks contents on the bed.

Glittering screws rolled out, tiny tools and green and red shards in the shape of eyeglass plopped out of the sack and onto the bed.

Already Bulma's eyes were wide with curiousity and glee, but she paused as she went to put the little sack down.

It was still heavy, as if something was still inside it.

She turned the inside of the sack towards her, and audibly gasped.

Nestled at the bottom of the sack was a scouter.

"Fucking jackpot!"

She had heard of these things, little machines that somehow hooked over one ear and displayed information all across the glass. It could read power levels, it could communicate to other scouters, it linked up to a network and soon..

"This is going to be my ticket out of this hell hole."

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((I really wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed, and reviewed my story. This has really meant the world to me! As I stated before, this is my first fanfic, so any criticism or review is really welcome, as I am really trying to improve my writing.

I really quick wanted to say thank you to CrazySmith for their indepth review. I had put little dashes between the transitional paragraphs..but I guess they didn't format over. I would have never known that had happened, so thank you SO much for pointing that out so I could make sure that DIDN'T happen with this chapter. I hope this one was a much easier read for all of you!

Little inside notes: This chapter was super hard to write and was supposed to be WAY longer (but the stopping point was so great of a place to end it. Dont worry, I'm already writing chapter 3). While I have a pretty good idea as to where this ridiculous story is heading, I really wanted to give a little more sustenance. Vegeta's first part was extremely difficult to write (I have editted the God damned thing so many fucking times, and I STILL feel like the rhythm is off), I really wanted something pivotal to happen to Vegeta that would be the fuel for his bad decisions, and I really REALLY didnt want that to ONLY be his encounter with Bulma. While I think it can be a romantic notion that their one encounter could completely change Vegeta, I just dont see something like that really effecting him on the level I need him to be effected on. I mean Im sure the coochie was good, but was the coochie life changing? That I am unsure of.))


	3. Chapter 3

Vegeta withheld a lot of information from his men.

His inner turmoil and fears. The blue haired girl who kept creeping back into the crevices of his mind. The amount of times he prayed to his Saiyan Deity to just end his fucking life.

And of course, the fact that you could actually over-ride "automatic" stasis mode in the pods.

The last thing Vegeta wanted was an almost six hour space trip, trapped in a tiny pod, with nothing but the sounds of Radditz and Nappa's crude banter bogging down the communications line.

No thank you.

The Prince wanted to use the time to turn himself inward, do some inner speculation, and do it all in SILENCE, never mind that the Prince hadn't had proper sleep in weeks.

And so, while his men went into stasis, no doubt snoring heavily, Vegeta floated amongst the stars wide awake.

He speculated on the Blue Haired Whore.

If Vegeta was a more...self-aware man, he would realize that his new found taste for booze and sex was purely incidental. That the little nameless planet with the furry nameless Prince had taken more of a toll on him than he cared to admit.

That the cheap liquor and quick fucks were a way to cope, a way to distract, and the blue haired girl was nothing but a red herring to all of the actual issues that were plaguing the man.

But alas, Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans, wasn't really known for his honesty, let alone for his self realization. So his sleep deprived inner speculation went more like:

 _Did the diddly with 3347, ?now only so-so sex and shitty booze on brain?, hella distracted, why tho?...Blue Haired Whore created distraction= Blue Haired Bitch is the distraction= Kill the Blue Haired One and balance will be restored._

There was a flutter of light in Vegeta's dark festering heart. A new purpose, a new mission.

He grinned.

Only five more hours until he snapped the girl's neck.

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When Bulma was a little girl she would often squirrel away stolen treasures under her bed, much to her Mother's dismay.

Bits of wire and scrap metal. Abandoned and failed machinery of all sorts. Occasionally she would even swipe very important prototypes, her Father always amused by his little girl's shenanigans.

She remembered how her heart would pound against her chest when her mother would come into her room to clean, fearful that her little treasure trove would soon be discovered.

Of course, back then, the worse thing that could've happened if her secret were discovered was a stern lecture from her Mother, and her collection being taken away.

Bulma now sat in the center of the bed, her heart crashing against her ribs, palms producing small rivers of sweat.

The little flutter of anxiousness she had felt as a girl was nothing compared to the spikes of adrenaline and terror currently wracking her body.

If Mr. Yanciel walked in on her right now...Bulma didn't want to see just how creative the bug could get with his punishments.

Over the course of Bulma's stay at Yungk't Tudor Wat she had acquired (I.e., stolen, swiped, stuffed way into the depths of her cleavage and covered with just a hint of fabric) a variety of seemingly useful...junk.

And much like her early days of childhood, Bulma stashed all of it under the bed of the way back back-room.

Sprawled all around her was the collection from beneath the bed

To her left, screws and wires, two blue fuses and scrap metal of all types.

To her right, a tiny pot of cream stolen from the Healing Chambers, a palm-sized ki-gun that had definitely seen better days, and one abnormally small stiletto heel.

And finally, the grey alien's sack of treasures, laid out in front of her.

Bulma eyed her little hoard of misfit items, desperate to find the means to her escape among them.

She hovered a hand over every object, recalling each items original plan.

The scraps of metal and wire.

She had hoped to acquire enough of them to make some kind of amazing piece of machinery that was going to bust her out of Yungk't Tudor Wat. Unfortunately she never really snagged enough to make anything of any worth.

She rolled her eyes.

Next.

The two lone fuses required tools that, apparently, space brothels had no need need for. Apparently Yungk't Tudor Wat's customers didnt need the tools either, because every bag Bulma ever got a good glimpse into had always came up empty.

She huffed.

The tiny pot of healing cream.

It had been a sound investment, completely worth the risk of any consequence.

Out of all her stolen goods this was the one she found herself using often. She slathered it on little scrapes, sore feet and lady bits. It was practically a regen tank in a pot! She even used the magical cream as an under eye treatment. Just because she was enslaved to a shitty ass alien brothel didn't mean she was going to stop being Bulma Vanity Briefs.

She gave a small smile into the empty room, her gaze moving on to the next item.

Her smile promptly fell.

The Ki-Gun was her biggest disappointment yet.

When she first came upon it, abandoned next to some soldiers forgotten chest armor, Bulma's eyes had lit up with hope and her mind instantly dreamt up thousands of different escape plans.

She was going to burst through Mr. Yanciel's office, and blow his hideous bug head off his grotesque bug neck.

Another fantasy had her aiming the ki-gun at just the right unsuspecting alien appliance, blowing the whole brothel up, all while she slow walked off the whole fucking planet.

Finally, she had decided she was going to shoot a ki-burst at the wall, jump out of the hole it created, and run out to freedom with her middle fingers in the air, never mind that she had no idea what was actually beyond the wall.

Unfortunately, the reality was that the ki-gun was probably left behind for a reason.

When Bulma took her shot to freedom, she was severely disappointed. The little gun let out a pathetic "pew pew" sound, the faintest beam of a laser following suit. The area on the wall that Bulma had taken aim at was left with the tiniest, dingiest singe mark. She had covered up her disappointing attempt with the room's mini liquor bar, the tall bottles easily concealing her failure.

She sighed at the memory, her hands touching the next object.

The little stiletto heel.

All the girls and boys of Yungk't Tudor Wat went barefoot. It was a requirement, so the heel meant one of two things. Either there was a rebellious 2 foot nothing prostitute missing a heel somewhere, or a customer somehow waltzed out of here with only their right shoe. Either way, Bulma just kept it around because it reminded her of her more glamorous days on Earth.

She shrugged.

Finally, Bulma's hand stopped over Sza's forgotten sack of treasures. Her heart sped up.

Out of all her items, these were the most promising. Their arrival had dramatically expanded the realm of possibilities.

Just the little sack on its own was useful. She could take a few small things with her when she finally made her get away. She could fit the stiletto heel and the pot of cream easily, with ample room to spare. Maybe she could stash away a few cards with some active creds, or even swipe some alien jewelry on her way out?

The new tools were a definite game-changer. With them she could maybe put the scrap metal and wire to use, FINALLY fucking use the blue fuses, or even fix the sad little ki-gun.

But the Scouter...that was the real breadwinner here.

If everything she had heard about these things were true, she could get all the information she needed to hatch a real feasible plan of action. Hell, with the tools, she could probably alter it and finally call back home, and get some real fucking help! She could talk to Goku and Krillin, Papa, Mother...tears began to spring up at the corners of her eyes.

She stopped. Took a deep breath, placed her hand over her racing heart.

"Calm down girl. For all we know the scouter is as useless as the ki-gun."

She took the small eye-piece in her hand, turning it over and over until she finally figured out how to power it on.

Palms sweaty, eyes screwed shut, she pushed the power button in, afraid the thing would remain lifeless.

Silence stretched on, and her heart began to plummet.

And then, suddenly, a series of tiny beeps.

It was on.

Bulma's face split into a wide grin, as she excitedly hooked the scouter over her ear.

Luck seemed to finally be on her side.

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Sure, Vegeta had decided to kill the blue bitch, but he hadn't decided on how.

He liked the idea of breaking her neck, but surely things could be taken care of with a little more...finesse.

After all, you cant spend two months reminiscing about a one night stand, only to end things with a quick three second snap of the neck.

The Prince tapped his chin.

No, no. Snapping the neck wouldn't do at all.

And what a waste too.

He thought back to the pleasure he took in her body, the almost timid nature in which she shuddered and blushed beneath his every touch, the way her lips formed her strained words...he could almost hear her now...

" _P-please. Fuck me, my Prince._ "

Great. He was hard now.

He sighed.

Four more hours.

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"DIDCHOOU HEAR ME BITCH?"

"H-huh?!"

The alien on the bar stool seemed to peer down menacingly at Bulma, but she couldn't be for sure. It's only feature on its gooey green face were enormous purple lips that vibrated with each exhale of air. How the thing could see at all was really beyond her.

"I WANT 7122. I WANT 2325. UNDERSTAND?", the slime ball waved its bloated hand in front of Bulma's face, but she didn't even notice.

Her mind was a million miles away.

She had only been able to tinker with the scouter for 15 minutes before having to return to the Selecting Lounge.

Within that time frame she had learned that the little electronic was truly all it was cracked up to be and more.

At the click of a button the eye-glass showed the thermal image of everyone outside her door within a 30 foot radius, another click and numbers appeared over that thermal image.

Another button brought up what appeared to be the famed database, and it really had been everything she had hoped.

First, she brought up Yungk't Tudor Wat. She was surprised and slightly disgusted to learn that its name literally translated into Legs Tits Ass. She was more surprised to find out that the planet she was on was called Planet Freiza 1307.

That's as far as she got before returning to "work".

And now, Bulma's mind was fixated.

Just how many Planet Freiza's were there exactly, and why? Who was Freiza really, and how big of a threat was he exactly? How safe was she? How safe was Earth...

Bulma's face was suddenly slapped with a thick yellow tinged slime.

"ARECHOU LISTENING YOU DUMB BITCH? I HAD BETTER SERVICE ON PLANET TUROG THAN THIS.", the enormous slime threw it's card at Bulma's dripping face. The card stuck to the goo, "FUCKING RING ME UP ALREADY. 7122! 2325! HURRY UP!"

Very slowly, Bulma grabbed the card stuck to her face. It pulled off her with a snapping trail of slime.

Quickly, she tapped the card onto the tablet in her hand, and activated the key card for the purple-lipped green-gooed alien. She mechanically dropped the cards onto the counter, and turned without a word, the slime ball ranting in the distance.

She began making her way to the Bath Hall, skin crawling and stomach churning.

She wasn't sure, but she suspected that she was dripping in a giant galactic loogie straight from the enormous purple lipped alien's mouth.

She had to fucking get out of here.

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Vegeta had ran through several scenarios within the past hour.

The first was simply ki-blasting his way into the brothel, finding 3347, mounting her, and at the exact moment of his climax slitting her throat.

Just as quickly as he dreamed up the plan he discarded it.

Blasting up one of Planet 1307's most profitable brothel's would be like setting fire to Freiza's own personal wallet. He could do without the punishment.

The second had Vegeta stalking the girl and roughly taking her by surprise, before finally shoving a ball of ki into her abdomen and blowing her up into chunks of burnt flesh.

That scenario didn't sit well with him, either.

He imagined the fear and smell of her tears that would no doubt fall down her face while he pushed her into a wall and took her from behind. She would no doubt scream and cry and his ears would probably be ringing the whole fucking time. Not to mention the fleshy chunks splattering all over the place.

The whole thing honestly sounded like more trouble than what it was worth to the indecisive Prince.

He did want her to scream, though. But maybe more like last time, then?

He liked the idea of roughly pressing her into a wall or shoving her face into a mattress while he violently rode her from behind and listened to her wails of pleasure.

So he would do like he did two months ago. Pay the 50,000 creds, and burst through her door.

Instead of toiling away indecisively (for-fucking-ever, like last time), he would immediately undo her ties and remove the ball gag before feverishly lapping at her pussy until those erotic groans spilled from her lips.

Maybe he would tease her until she once again begged for her Prince to fuck her, and he would violently enter her from behind until he spilled himself inside of her.

While she pleaded for her own orgasm he would begin fucking her again, this time slowly and deliberately, and right before she got her climax he would end her life with a ki blast to the head.

He chuckled darkly, how very evil of him.

While Vegeta was mentally patting himself on the back for finding a perfectly torturous end for 3347, he came to a pause.

He...had LIKED feeling her cum. The feeling of her whole body convulsing around his dick with the little shocks of her orgasm...Did he really want to deny himself that kind of pleasure too?

So maybe he would prolong her death until he was completely satisfied of the blue haired bitch in her entirety.

He would have to rent her to produce similar results like the last encounter.

He hummed.

It all sounded well and good to the Saiyan prince, but now he had a new dilemma.

Was it really worth spending 50,000 fucking creds on some bitch he was going to kill anyway?

He rubbed his temples.

He had three hours to figure it out.

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After a fucking eternity, Bulma had managed to wash off every slip of slime off her body without throwing up.

Before she could even sigh in relief, the holograph pin displayed prominently on her chest started flashing.

Anxiety immediately filled her.

When the numbers began to flash it meant one of two things. Either the giant bug Mr. Yanciel wanted to see her (gag), or some grotesque rich alien purchased her (double gag).

She couldn't imagine Mr. Yanciel wanting anything to do with her. She had been an absolute fucking angel these past few weeks, completely subordinate.

 _Maybe...he found my stash_. She broke out in a sweat at the thought.

The alternative was just as nerve-wracking.

Who would ever spend 150,000 creds on a whore?! Bulma couldn't quite figure out how much that was in Earth currency, but she had heard enough comments of, "You better be worth the money.", to assume 50,000 creds was already pretty steep.

Bulma pushed the pin, turning off the erratic flashing of the numbers 3347.

She would go to Mr. Yanciel first, but not before making a pit-stop.

Straightening her two-sizes too small top and smoothing her ultra sheer skirt down, Bulma began the long trek to the converted room at the end of the long long hall way.

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Vegeta was finally a mere 30 minutes away from Planet 1307.

For the duration of his trip he not only continued to debate within himself, he also maintained a hard on.

The death scenarios had quickly turned into erotic visions of pale silky thighs and petal soft lips.

He imagined how the silken red ropes were knotted ornately up her pale body and how she had been so timid, shy, even. The way she tried to hold in her cry's and how she seemed to almost blush bashfully. Delicate.

Vegeta recalled how the sensory-band completely cut her off from seeing and hearing him, and he wondered if she should adorn the bulky contraption once more.

If he was going to pay 50,000 fucking creds he had better be able to make a fucking request.

The Prince mulled over the options before briefly imagining what the rest of her face would look like without the device.

What colors would her eyes be?

He thought back to her teal tresses.

 _Her eyes are blue._

He nodded sagely to himself.

There was no other color quite as timid and weak as blue, after all.

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10 minutes.

That's all Bulma had before the giant olive-toned bug would absolutely lose his patience and probably squeeze off her head with his enormous pinchers.

She feverishly looked at her unfound, untouched, misfit collection, taking in every respective item, before finally sighing in relief.

 _Everything is here._

The thought only momentarily calmed her.

Something in her gut told her that the tides of change were upon her, that something downright terrible was going to happen to her.

And if there was one piece of advice that Bulma took from her beloved ditzy mother, it was that you never doubted a woman's intuition.

She gulped.

Her intuition was screaming at her that she had to leave. Today.

And that she had better be fucking prepared.

The heiress hooked her scouter over her ear, pushing in the button and bringing up Freiza's file.

She than took the two lonely fuses, grabbed Sza's tools, and blindly began to work on the pathetic little ki-gun, the scouter reciting Freiza's database entry into her ear.

 _Freiza, Emperor of northern quadrant 4 of the Universe. Confirmed destroyed planet count: 438. Speculated count: 2,012._

Bulma would, at the very least, be informed if all else failed.

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Vegeta rolled his head and shoulders, the bones satisfyingly cracking all at once. Behind him he heard Radditz yawn obnoxiously and Nappa lumber out of his pod.

"Thank fucking God for stasis. There was no way I could survive being awake in such a cramped space for six fucking hours."

The Prince shot a glare over his shoulder at his men, who instantly took note of the bags under his eyes.

Nappa and Radditz shared a side-long glance. _He over-rode stasis again._

Both soldiers squared their shoulders and steeled themselves. A tired Vegeta brought hell in the form of sudden punishment and hour long speeches of bravado.

Anything would set him off.

They walked to Yungkt Tudor Wat in silence, a strange feeling lingering in the air.

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She had made it to 's, albeit 15 minutes late.

She gulped.

"Preeeeeeeenzess. How goooodz to zee you."

Bulma's skin crawled. Just the sight of the 6'5 praying mantis like bug made her ill, but it was the buzzing sound of his speech that made her pray for an aneurism.

She turned her eyes away, instead looking down at her outfit (that positively screamed "slave Leia"). She fidgeted with the pin on her chest, praying that the items stowed away into the depths of her cleavge weren't poking out, and REALLY praying the gun didn't set off.

"...Mr. Yanciel. How might I be of service?", she uttered softly, hoping her demeanor came off subservient instead of screaming anxious.

The room filled with one of Mr. Yanciel's famous long buzzing hums (rumored to have lasted seven minutes long.).

She inhaled, nose filling with the musky incense burning in the room. She exhaled, praying for the buzzing intimidation tactic to come to an end.

Instead, it continued.

She looked everywhere but at the bug, noting that there were not any windows even in the office of Mr. Yanciel. As big a place as Yungkt Tudor Wat, you would expect for the Bosses room to have a window view, at the VERY least. This truly was a prison.

Finally, "You'vvve beenza a gooooodz girl, Preenzess.".

Bulma exhaled, relieved.

"Perhaapzzzzz to good?"

Her heart stopped.

"I couldn't help but notizzzzzzze...you have no buyeeeerrrzzz."

Her chest heaved, sweat slowly forming, trickling down her neck. She didn't like his tone.

"Doezn't that szeem straaangze?"

Bulma's inner mantra:You're fine, you're fine, you're fine, you're fine, calm down girl. You're fine, you're fine, you're fine.

"ANSWER ME."

She flinched.

Mr. Yanciel only stopped buzzing when he yelled. He almost sounded human.

"I-it does. I thought that seemed peculiar myself, Sir."

He nodded.

"Hmmmmmmmzzzzz yez. Peculiar indeedz. Izn't it peculiar that your pricze is now 150,000 creeeeeddzzz."

Bulma's pale face betrayed her, but she still stuttered out, "O-oh?"

He sniggered, a horrible vibrating sound.

"Pleeeeez, dear, don't play coy. I'm szuuuuure hacking into our catalog was a zinnnnch for a, what did you call yourzelf?"

She began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Ah, yezzzzz. For a geniuuuuuuz like youuuu. Izn't that right Preenczezzzz? You uszed to say that when you firrrrrzt got here."

He snickered again, and a long silence came, before he suddenly slammed his claw on his desk.

"ANSWER ME"

She jumped and hiccuped a, "Y-yes sir!", before he began to buzz another long and disconcerting hum, slowly rising from his sitting place, looming over her at his full height.

Her whole body trembled with adrenaline.

She was a fucking genius, alright.

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"WHAT. DO YOU MEAN. 150,000 CREDS?"

Every vein popped in Vegeta's neck, the snarl on his face pulled so far back you could see the snaggle tooth that sat at the very back row of his gums.

"I mean that the requested 3347 is priced at 150,000 creds, SIR.", the bored high-heeled waiter practically spat out the honorific, furthering the heat in Vegeta's boiling blood.

Her itty bitty face looked up at Vegeta with pure indifference before she very sarcastically continued, "If you still don't understand, sir, I can further explain to you the act of exchanging goods and services for MONEY—"

Vegeta's frustrated growl cut in. He was seconds away from smashing his boot onto the tiny waitresses whole body, before Radditz nervously cut in.

"Hey! Yea, ya know this guy right here is a Prince. 3347 is advertised as a Princess, yea? How about you help the two love birds out, huh? It's not everyday someone gets to help a fairy tale come true! How about you fix that price?"

Vegeta stood trembling with rage, the waitress briefly looked deeply at Radditz before tapping on her tiny little tablet.

"Okay. After a few adjustments...", she said as she tapped away.

"—Ah! Yes, thank you, you're a doll!", Radditz chimed in, entirely too quickly.

She finally stopped tapping, "Your total comes to 350,000 creds.", she sang smugly.

There was only a second of silence before Vegeta's roar rumbled through the whole brothel, ki barreling out of his fists, obliterating the two foot nothing waiter, blowing out walls, shattering glasses, and causing general destruction.

All around them people shrieked and ran. Radditz and Nappa yelled, panicked by Vegetas sudden outburst. The Prince didn't hear any of that.

Somewhere in the brothel Vegeta heard another ki-blast go off.

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She limped towards the Healing Chambers, the remains of Mr. Yanciel coating her body.

Just like she had expected, a blue fuse was all she really needed for the ki-gun.

The integration of an additional fuse and some creative wire work, however, overloaded the whole thing, just as Bulma had hoped.

She knew it would have been a gamble with just one fuse, and if she was going to risk a shot at Mr. Yanciel she wanted to tip the odds in her favor.

The kick-back from the ki-gun had sent Bulma flying into the wall behind her, while the wall in front of her had completely been disintegrated. On the other side...were the regen tanks. Luck seemed to be on her side again...sort of.

There was another problem beside the slow moving state of Bulma's battered body.

She could hear people screaming.

And she was terrified.

Because if it had been weeks of Mr. Yanciel knowing she fucked with the catalog, the bug very well could've known about a lot of other things.

Paranoia plagued her.

He could've known about her stash.

She could have set off an alarm just turning on the scouter, or searching Freiza's file. She could have been watched.

The great praying mantis could have observed all these things and alerted authorities, maybe reported straight to Freiza himself.

She was a beautiful girl, cursed with intelligence. Surely her brains could be a valuable asset to an empire, to someone like Freiza.

The scouters automated voice echoed in her mind, " _Confirmed destroyed planet count: 438. Speculated count: 2,012._ "

She shivered.

Something deep, deep, deep into the pit of Bulma's stomach told her something was coming for her, something terrible was going to happen.

She needed to get away.

Fast.

But her body was too fucked from being slammed into a wall.

Her only hope of making a proper get away was to get into a regen tank, heal for a few minutes, and bust out of the place.

So slowly, Bulma painfully climbed over the debris and limped into the dark room, the teal liquid glow of the regen tanks painting the room with soft iridescent light.

 _Ten minutes...just ten minutes is all you need..and you can go home...ten minutes.._

She reached for the control pad, and froze, fear stricken.

Someone stood at the hole in the wall, and Bulma would have mistaken him for human if it wasn't for the pure chaotic smile splitting his face.

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There was no mistaking it.

That was 3347.

He took in the sight of her, and sniggered.

Her eyes were large, filled with fear, and positively the exact shad of blue he had envisioned. _I'm always right._

He took one step toward the little woman, "I've been looking for you—", and she quickly held up a ki-gun, a wild look plastered to her face.

He laughed, deeply.

"A ki-gun?! REALLY?!", she didn't move, "PLEASE. Do you know how many worlds I've annihilated? How many planets I've destroyed!? THOUSANDS of entire planets GONE, and here you think you're going to stop me with a puny outdated ki-gun!? Do you KNOW who I am!? Are you a fucking mor—"

The pain was indescribable.

Immediately his right arm burst into pain and the smell of singed flesh filled the room.

She had missed.

She had only grazed him.

What was left of the wall was completely gone, and Vegeta knew that if she had held the gun just a little higher, if her battered body had allowed her to aim just a little more to the left, Vegeta would be but a bloody splatter mark on the floor of the dingy brothel.

Instead, the top layer of skin was completely burned off from his bicep to the tip of his shoulder.

Between his carnal shrieks of pain and yells of "YOU SHOT ME, YOU FUCKING SHOT ME!", Vegeta was barely aware that the kickback sent 3347 flying, and she was weakly pulling herself out of the shattered regen tank.

How powerful was that gun?!

The latest batch of ki-guns would have left a nasty burn mark at best. The puny thing the whore carried was from 20 years ago! At its most powerful it should have been the equivalent of a rubber band sting for a Saiyan of his caliber.

Vegeta gritted his teeth, growling from his kneeling spot on the ground.

The little whore was covered in cuts and gashes. Bruises were already blossoming all over her body, blood oozing from her scrapes, but still. She limped forward, sights set on Vegeta.

There were bits of shattered glass still embedded in her forearms from being thrown into the tanks, but still, the woman held up the ki-gun, shakily pressing the barrel into Vegeta's forehead.

The Prince was still, his chest only rising and falling with his laborious breathing.

Her left eye had swelled shut, but her right held him still. She was trembling, yet there was a fire, flames burning blue, behind the determined stare of her one eye, and it held Vegeta in place. Captive.

They stared at each other for an eternity, breathing stretching on as the building slowly crumbled around them, concrete tumbling and crashing to the floor.

Finally, she spoke.

"...are you Freiza?"

His blood-shot eyes widened. The silence became suffocating, his body slightly trembled at the chanting he could hear at the back of his sleep deprived mind.

MONSTERMONSTERMONSTERMONSTERMONSTERMONSTERMONSTERMONSTER

He could feel his breathing picking up as she seemed to stare through him, and he could practically hear her muscles work to pull the trigger and obliterate his physical body, but suddenly he could hear Nappa, and suddenly, he could see Radditz, holding the now fainted girl, with his hand still up in the air.

Radditz had knocked the girl out.

"What the FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK!? WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT THIS?", Radditz yelled, looking around wildly. "We can't fix this! We CAN'T. FIX. THIS. FREIZA WILL HAVE OUR SKULLS!"

Vegeta's heart slowed, the breath he was holding released.

He never thought he would say this...but thank the Gods for Radditz.

"Calm DOWN, Radditz, CALM DOWN. We've gotten out of worse. Remember that mission in sector 2–"

"THATS NOT THE SAME, NAPPA. WE DIDN'T FUCKING BLOW UP FREIZA'S PROPERTY."

"It was kinda...uh, I mean. Yeah it was sorta like...I uh...Uhhhh..yeah, you're right."

"Shut. Up."

Both men instantly stood up to attention, Radditz completely tossing the girl to the the floor to free his arms for the salute.

"Nappa—"

"YES. MY LORD!"

"No survivors."

"YES SIR!", the bald Saiyan phased out.

"Radditz."

"Yes, Prince Vegeta?"

"Grab the girl, grab the gun, and find us a ship."

"But sir! What are we going to do?! Freiza will be so—"

"— Yes.", Vegeta stood up, cooly holding his limp right arm. The grimace on his face the only indicator that he was in pain.

"Freiza will be VERY upset with his property being blown up.", he continued, "Which is why we're bringing him the culprit. I think Freiza will be very intrigued with what the girl was able to do with a ki-gun from over twenty years ago, don't you?"

The gears slowly turned in Radditz thick skull, but finally, the light bulb went off.

"..ohhhhhh. Yeah. Yeah! Yes, SIR, I DO think he would be pleased that we caught the culprit! Heheh- whoa wait. Twenty years ago?! That thing is a relic!"

"Hnn."

Radditz roughly threw the girl over his shoulder, and cautiously lifted the ki-gun from the floor, holding it outstretched and away from his body.

As the Saiyan was stepping out through the hole in the wall, he heard his Prince call for him.

"Yes, Prince Vegeta?"

"Make sure the ship has a few regen tanks."

"Yessir."

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Bulma painfully cracked her eyes open.

Her vision instantly filled with the tell tale color of a regen tank, a gem toned teal.

Instantly, she squeezed her eyes shut.

She moaned.

Even in the tank her whole body felt tender and sore.

How long had she been in here?

She floated forward, and pressed her hand into the glass.

Where was she?

Bulma tiredly peered out from beyond the glass.

Whatever room she was in was not located in Yungk't Tudor Wat, the row of regen tanks in front of her were much larger, and much newer looking. And in the tank directly across from her...she made eye contact.

Left hand pressed up to the glass, right arm floating beside him, Bulma was met with the furious stare of her visitor from Yungk't Tudor Wat.

His demon black eyes stared at her unflinchingly from under a furrowed brow.

She shrunk away from the intense stare, pushing herself against the back wall of the tank, hunching over, desperately trying to make herself small and disappear from the gaze.

But she still felt his eyes, and it filled her with fear at the pit of her stomach.

Something terrible was going to happen, a woman's intuition was never wrong after all.

And Bulma Briefs may have been a genius, but she was no fortune teller.

All she knew for certain was that she was out of the pan, and into the fire.


	4. Chapter 4

It was rare to awaken before healing was complete, but then again, Prince Vegeta was a bit of a rarity himself. The tendons that were damaged from the ki-blast were freshly reformed and the flesh of the shoulder was still regenerating over top. It was best not to move it, and he allowed his right arm to float beside him, careful not to tense the muscles as he pressed his left arm into the glass of the tank, willing the pain of his exhausted body to the back of his mind.

Beyond the glass was the woman, floating ethereally, silently, asleep. Blue lashes kissed the tops of her cheeks, the ocean tendrils of her hair fanning out around her, the softness of her alabaster skin glowing otherworldly in the teal gemmed tones of the tank.

He looked down upon his own skin, the angry raised scars and twisting marred marks of his skin glared back at him. Testaments to every battle, beating, punishment. Failure. All the times he was denied a tank, and was forced to heal painfully and imperfectly. Never had he seen another living soul so delicate, so flawless.

Vegeta took one last look at the floating piece of perfection across from him, before closing his eyes, forehead pressing into his arm.

He was in the presence of an angel.

Despite being submerged, his Saiyan ears picked up the soft sounds of movement.

She was stirring. Her eyes softly, opening once, twice, three times, before adjusting to her surroundings. He watched as she painfully squeezed her eyes shut, bubbles erupting from the pained moan leaving her mouth.

Lazily, she pressed her hand into the glass of her tank, floating forward to take in her surroundings.

And then, she spotted him.

It was rare to awaken, yes, but here they were, his eyes staring into hers from the distance of their respective tanks, as if there was something more cosmic to the meeting of their eyes beyond that of mere coincidence.

Her stare quickly turned panicked, eyes darting like that of prey.

He knew the moment their gaze met that realization had set in and the little whore must have known that she was trapped with him, the monster.

She shrunk away, bubbles erupting in the water from her movement. He watched as she curled into herself, pressing her body against the wall of the giant tank. A futile attempt to create distance between herself and him. Cowering.

His eyes lowered once more, and disappointment flooded Vegeta's stomach.

Was this even the same girl? The one whose maimed body stood tall as she pressed the barrel of a gun into his head? The one who thought she was taking a stand against Freiza?

He shook his head.

Whatever vigor that had filled her then, it most certainly had left her now.

She was sleeping now, eyelashes kissing the tip tops of her cheeks once more.

He closed his eyes.

So would he.

* * *

First, it was the lights.

Jesus fucking CHRIST, these fucking lights!

Through Bulma's CLOSED LIDS she could see just how fucking clinically bright the lights were.

Then, it was the floor she was strewn across. It was warm, unforgiving and felt like it was made from the cheapest fucking tile the whole galaxy had to offer.

Finally, the last bits of information started filtering in, like the nausea, the humid air, and... _aggressive whispering._

"I try and I try and I TRY, Nappa, I just don't know what to do anymore! He ain't ever happy with what I do. He tells me to get a ship with regen tanks, and what did I do? HUH? WHAT DID I DO FOR HIM?"

"You stole a med ship."

"THATS RIGHT. THE BEST MEDSHIP, WITH THE BEST FUCKING TANKS THE WHOLE PLANET HAD TO OFFER. AND HOW DOES HE THANK ME, HUH?! HUH!? HUH!?

"Toilet duty."

"TOILET! DUTY! UNTIL THE END OF MY NATURAL LIFE! I CAN'T ANYMORE, NAPPA, I JUST CAN'T!"

"Uhhh-huh."

"HAVEN'T I SUFFERED ENOUGH!? THREE DAYS! THREE DAYS ON THIS FUCKING SHIP, WITH HIS MOODY-"

"He can probably hear you."

A throat cleared, before angrily continuing, now with a hushed tone, "...his fucking MOODY ass! And who knows how much longer! I'm STRESSED, Nappa! STRESSED! Do you know how we look right now?! A fucking brothel blows up on a planet we landed on, we go missing, and we don't even report it! DO YOU KNOW. HOW BAD. THAT. LOOKS? DO YOU!?"

"...I mean we would be able to report it if it wasn't for this shitty ship you stole. Who steals a ship with a shot communication chip and no GPS?"

"WHOS SIDE ARE YOU ON, HUH!?"

The aggressive sputtering continued, and Bulma audibly groaned. What hell was this?

"SHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhshesawakenappa!"

She cracked open her eye.

Welp, she was on a floor, alright. A filthy filthy floor, behind what appeared to be badly spaced apart rusting bars.

Sooo...this was supposed to be a prison cell? Really? She would've expected something a bit more _futuristic._ Maybe a wall of electricity, or, hell, even glass seemed like it should've been what was enclosing her.

On the other side of her rickety cell were what Bulma could only describe as two gigantic _idiots._

One had insanely voluminous locks that looked as if they never felt a brush. The other was as bald and smooth as a newborn baby's bottom, but had a grotesque pencil thin mustache occupying his upper lip.

Gross.

"Ehehehehheh, she looks like a scared animal."

She groaned again, eyes screwing shut. She made an attempt to sit up, but pathetically flopped back down. Fabulous.

"Heheheh, come on, Nappa, lets skidaddle."

She heard them both lumber away, the door sliding and locking shut behind them.

God, how long was she going to be stuck HERE!?

* * *

Leave it to fucking Radditz to throw a whole plan off course.

Vegeta had given him one job. One. Fucking. Job.

Get a ship, he had said. Make sure there are regen tanks, he said. And what does Radditz do? Suuuuuure, he got a ship. He even made sure there were regen tanks.

Oh yeah, on the surface it all sounded just fine.

But, any soldier worth half his salt in the Planet Trade Organization could tell you Med Ships were absolute garbage vessels to be in.

They used to be the best ships the PTO had to offer, but some cheap-skate from up above (i.e. Freiza), thought it would be best to scale back on some of the more "unnecessary" features.

So now you got Med Ships with state of the art medical equipment that would put some land based infirmaries to shame...and that's it. The rest of the ship might as well been made of popsicle sticks and hot glue.

And the one Radditz nabbed was no exception, in fact, Vegeta would venture to say that what Radditz got was THE WORST ship in all of existence.

There were only three rooms in the whole spacecraft: the brig, the infirmary, and the cockpit, and somehow the captains chair was the only seat in the whole vessel.

The temperature controls only went two degrees above or below 80, and the whole fucking ship seemed to be made of the cheapest, stickiest, heat-retaining plastic the universe had to offer. The fucking communication chip was shot, the turbo was shit, gps was null, and worst of all...stasis mode didn't work. They would all have to... _BE_ with one another, awake and aware, bumping elbows and making eye contact.

Vegeta shuddered, his head dropping in his hands, he could feel the vein above his temple throb with the tell-tale sign of a migraine.

This was a fucking nightmare.

"Hey Vegeets!"

Throb.

"That whore is waking up."

The Prince lifted his head from his hands, eyes hardening. "Is she responsive?"

Radditz shifted uncomfortably behind him. "Ehhhhhhhhhhh...yes?"

Throb throb.

Vegeta growled, "What. Do. You. Mean."

"Wellllllll she's attempting to roll around the floor and making groany sounds, but its not like we're conversating."

THROB.

"It's CONVERSING.", he whirled around, smacking Radditz upside the head, "AND ROLLING AROUND THE FUCKING FLOOR ISN'T REALLY USEFUL INFORMATION, IS IT?"

He angrily turned back to the window, fuming at the stars stretching across space. His migraine was setting in.

"Sir, she seemed to be aware of her surroundings. I would estimate another hour before we can begin an interrogation.", Nappa offered.

He nodded.

An hour.

He furrowed his brow.

Maybe he could find something for his head on this sorry excuse for a ship.

* * *

Bulma Briefs.

Heiress. Genius. A solid 10 in the looks and personality department.

A God damn piece of PURE fucking PERFECTION, and here she was sitting on a fucking grimy floor, wearing tattered rags for clothes, behind the rusting bars of a cheap prison cell, somewhere floating around space with at least TWO confirmed moronic giants.

Seriously, what did she do to deserve THIS?

At least give her a jail cell with a fucking force field or some shit, she was obviously in some kind of chintzy space prison.

Fuck. This.

If they think they can keep BULMA BRIEFS in this dump, they can think AGAIN.

She defiantly stood up, grasping at the rusty bars.

Jesus who designed this place?! The bars were so awkwardly placed she could practically shove her whole head through them. Carefully, as to not get rust on her delicate face, she peered out from behind the bars.

It was a cramped grey room. To her right sat a rejected looking chair, half-hazardly shoved into the corner of the room. To her left, a wall, separating her cell from the next. From where she stood she could see the bars of the other cell bent and broken.

Looks like someone was strong enough to break out.

She pulled back, tugging and shoving at the bars with all her might, but alas, Bulma Briefs only conceivable flaw held her back: she had zero strength.

"UGHHH, Come ON. There is NO WAY I'm trapped here. Come on, Girl, THINK!", she shoved her face through the bars, this time without the slightest bit of concern for her skin.

She gave the barren room a once-over, a twice-over, and then, "BINGO."

A keypad, smack in the middle of the wall separating her cell, from the other. If she just shoved herself into the far corner of the cell she could reach out her arm through the space between the bars and touch it.

Quickly she positioned herself, stretching her right arm as faaaar as it could reach. She could just barely reach the keypad. Blindly, she fingered the little mechanism, taking mental notes of the number and shapes of each button.

Now to figure out the code.

IF there was a code.

Who was to say the keypad wasn't really a broken thermostat? If she were being honest with herself, she was in a BARRED jail cell, these mother fuckers were probably using KEYS for this. She visibly deflated.

The keypad, though, was the only thing she had to work with. She had to at least TRY.

Focus Bulma.

Ten different buttons on the keypad. Two buttons felt larger, more square. Perhaps enter and cancel buttons?

Assuming the other eight buttons were used for a pin code, Bulma had approximately...

"...10,000 possible pin combinations...more if its longer than a four digit pin...FUCCCKKKK!", she shrieked in frustration, anger bubbling up inside her. She would be here forever! Bulma slammed her fist into the keypad, sudden strength fueled by her fury. The little keypad buzzed, before making a pathetic beep sound.

The entrance of the cell made a click.

She perked up.

No way.

Tentatively she stepped towards the entry gate. There was no fucking way that worked...right?

She tried pushing the gate...and it swung open.

 _Oh, thank the heavens for the cheap-skate who scrimped on security, thank you thank you THANK YOU._ Bulma stepped out into the cramped space, looking around more freely. "Wow. That's really it, huh? Nothing but two cells and a rickety chair?"

That meant her only way out was through the door... Fuck. She could feel her body tense with anxiety, her mind running rampant with the thousands of possibilities of what laid behind the door.

 _Calm down girl._

 _Inhale._

 _Exhale._

She let out her breath and stared at the door with newfound determination. Bulma began stretching her arms and legs.

"Okay, girl, you're gonna go through that door and make a run for it!", she rolled her shoulders, "Just run as far and as fast as you can.", she bent over and touched her toes, "Just keep on running until you find an exit or a weapon.", she stood up straight, "You came this far, you wont be stopped now! You WILL get back home! Alright! Yeah!"

She pumped her fist in the air, "RIGHT. LETS DO THIS!"

With all the gusto and determination in the universe Bulma slammed open the door, ready to take off into a sprint.

"Uh."

She stopped at the doorway.

Immediately she was greeted with the sight of the two giants, the bald one sitting uncomfortably in the galaxy's smallest chair, while the other half-sat on him, his hands on the bald guys enormous head pulling it as if to move the giant man, both frozen at the sight of her.

Behind them, a man with black flames for hair, silhouetted by the bright display of stars behind glass.

Slowly, the flamed haired one glanced at her over his shoulder, black eyes piercing her into place, the memory of his cold glare from beyond the tank glass flooding her.

Oh. She remembered him now. He was the psycho from the brothel. Didn't she practically shoot off his arm?

She shrunk back a little. Realization set in.

Bulma was trapped, in Space, in what had to be the Universe's smallest dingiest ship, with two gigantic idiots fighting over a single chair, and one, very angry, very psychotic man, who no doubt wanted to kill her.

She clutched the door frame, "Aw, fuck."

* * *

He dumbly watched the display of emotions run rampant on the woman's face.

First, shock, then realization. Pure cold fear flooded her crystal blue eyes. And then, her face softened, eyes holding a neutral gaze in resignation. All fear gone, she seemed to have decided to leave her fate to the Gods.

And all Vegeta, the Prince of all Saiyan's could mutter, was one very short, "...Oh." Just how was he supposed to react to this?

The silence seemed to take up a millennia, before Vegeta finally willed his body to move.

He took a single step towards her and watched terror flood her whole face. Another step and she visibly went from scared to a feeble look of defiance. Another, and she was once more, completely petrified.

God, this girl's face was a fucking circus of emotion, ENOUGH! He stomped towards her, grabbed her arm, and and sent her flying through the doorway of the brig, past the rusting bars of her open cell, the woman landing hard on her ass.

"OWWWWWWW, HEY, FUCKING WATCH IT, PAL, I'M A FUCKING LADY! TREAT ME DELICATELY."

"Hmmf. Some lady. With a mouth like that there is no doubt you're some common peasant."

"A PEASANT?! FUCKING EXCUSE ME? DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?"

Vegeta leaned forward, nose almost touching the little woman's, a spiteful smirk splitting his face cruelly, "No, but I do intend on finding out."

She leaned back, a comically scared look on her face, "Wwhaat d-do you mean?"

He never answered her. Instead, Vegeta slightly turned his head to the left before barking, "NAPPA.", eyes never leaving the girl's.

The mustachioed giant shuffled in, the little relic of a ki-gun held in his enormous paws. He bowed, "Sir.".

Without breaking eye contact, the Prince took the offered gun, "Close the door behind you."

Nappa scuffled out, stiffly sliding the door shut.

Beyond the door, Vegeta could hear his two men very noisily shove themselves about, no doubt their ears were already pressed to the door to gracelessly eavesdrop.

No matter.

He straightened up, towering over the woman sprawled on the floor, he dangled the ki-gun in her face, "Tell me about _this_."

He let the thing dangle from his forefinger, the implication being that he had no fucking problem with the thing falling and setting off, disintegrating the blue haired bitch into oblivion, and the woman was definitely picking up on the cue. She looked at the gun squeamishly, her left eye wincing shut, "Wwha-wha whaat about it?"

He leaned down suddenly, voice rumbling and breath hitting her face, "Where did you get it.", the question coming out more like an angry statement, he moved the little ki-gun a little closer to her face.

She screwed her eyes shut, "S-stole it.", it came out a warbled breath.

"SPEAK UP."

"I S-STOLE IT!", she cried, wrenching her face away. He quickly turned her towards him, rough leather of his white gloves digging into the cheeks of her face, "From?!"

"I d-don't know!", she hiccuped, "S-some, S-s-soo-som—", "SOME WHAT?", "A-ALIENS!", she finally blurted out. She was already to the brink of tears.

Wimp.

"Oh, aliens? You mean like the fucking kind you find, I don't know, all over fucking SPACE?", he grabbed her face a little harder.

Oh, she was trembling.

Little tears pricked the corners of her eyes and her cheeks flushed pink. Her bottom lip quivered pathetically, "I d-do-don-don..", she hiccuped, "d-d-d-dddon't know!"

"Hnnn.", he threw her face away and she pitifully fell back, legs sprawled. Vegeta could positively devour the woman in her current state, the way her thighs were slightly parted. But there was a problem: the girl was a complete moron. She could barely form a sentence.

"What a waste of time.", he stood up straight, ki-gun held out and taking aim at the woman's spot on the floor, "I've had enough of talking to an idiot."

"YOU'RE THE IDIOT, DON'T FUCKING POINT THAT THING AT ME.", she blurted out.

He froze.

Tears were still pricking the sides of her eyes, but she wore an annoyed expression on her face. "You're p-pointing an overclocked gun at me."

He remained silent, waiting. Distress slowly crept back into her expression, before she continued in her fear fueled stutter, "..i-it-itttt-it w-wuh- wi-will d-d-ddisss-s", "SPIT IT OUT ALREADY.", "It'll disintegrate me and the ship! Y-you shoot that and you're all at risk!".

Hesitantly she sat up a little, a bit of confidence returning, "YOU would be the idiot if you shot me, a-and I don't think you will."

Well, the cat was out of the bag. Vegeta was hoping to keep her on edge a little longer, using the gun to scare the information out of her.

New tactic.

"Feh, as if I care about you or this ship.", he shrugged a little before adding, "I can survive in the vacuum of space."

He nonchalantly dropped the gun, selling the lie to the floundering girl who was comically ducking. He knelt down before her again, voice dropping low, "I enjoy ripping off limbs anyhow."

The whore's eyes widened considerably, before he tightly grasped her face in his hand once more. "Tell me. About. The gun."

She gulped.

"S-some customers left it b-ehind...I k-kept it for myself."

Angry pink marks were forming from under his grip on her face. He lightened his hold. Perhaps she was being honest when she said to be delicate, he was barely touching her and she was already getting marks.

"Why?", he leaned into her more. He could smell her now. She smelled sweet.

"...to escape.", her voice soft and solemn. He hummed. For her freedom. He could respect that.

"Didn't get you very far, did it?", he chuckled darkly, his eyes boring into hers.

"I'm out of the brothel, aren't I?", she gave a pointed look before adding, "I'll leave here too. Just fucking watch me."

He smirked. Some fire in her after all.

Leaning into her neck, he inhaled her scent, "Oh, I'll be watching you alright.", he could feel the heat of a blush, "You won't get very far, little whore."

"D-d-d-dddont call me that, I-I'm n-n-not a wh-whore.", her stutter returned, "M-my name is Bulma.", she spat out.

"Bulma.", he breathed her name into her neck, he could feel the little shiver travel her body, and the heat of the blush deepen. He could get used to this type of interrogation.

Suddenly he stood up, leaving her alone on the floor, "What a stupid name."

Vegeta could practically hear her teeth grind.

"Tell me, _whore,",_ ohhh she was turning red in anger, how comical, "How did you know this gun was so powerful?"

"I'm the one who over-clocked it.", she turned her nose up, "It was a cinch, really, I've seen more advanced technology used in a porta-potty!"

The fuck was a porta-potty?

"Is that so?"

"Of course! I'm a sci-", she abruptly stopped, as if she suddenly remembered something. The woman broke eye contact, schooling her face to look disinterested. She smoothed out a little piece of her tattered skirt before she carefully replied, "...I've dabbled with altercations here and there."

"Just dabbled, huh? Interesting.", he wasn't buying it at all. He reached into his breast plate, and pulled out a little sack, "One of my men found this on your person."

Actually, Nappa found it shoved between the woman's tits, but that was neither here nor there.

He dangled the little sack in front of the woman's face.

"Do you know what I found in this little sack, whore?"

"It's B-bul.."

He didn't let her finish, "I found a scouter in here. You know what was very interesting?".

She shook her fear-filled face. He continued, "I found a file on here of Lord Freiza himself."

The Prince paused, studying the woman below him. Her demeanor remained the same level of distressed as she was before. The statement had went over her head.

"Where did you get this?", he continued, the demanding tone gone from his voice.

"I s-stole it...", she sputtered, "These three grey aliens left it behind and I t-took it."

Vegeta nodded, before returning the item into his breast plate. Disappointment filled the Prince's belly. She was telling the truth. A lie would have elicited a change in posture, a break in eye contact, a flash of recognition on a paling face.

No, the girl had no idea what kind of scouter she had.

Vegeta turned away from her sharply, and without another word, he left the cell, not bothering to lock it shut.

Shoving Nappa and Radditz out of the way, the Prince left the brig, and resumed standing at his spot at the window, staring out at the empty expanse of space. Radditz slid the door to the brig shut, before turning to the Saiyan Prince.

"...I don't understand. What the fuck does it matter that there is a file on Freiza on the scouter?", Radditz asked. Nappa audibly sighed, eyes rolling, "Are you fucking dense?".

Vegeta continued to stare off at the stars.

"Think about it, you moron. Does YOUR scouter have a file on Freiza?", Nappa continued.

"...uhhhh..."

For fucks sake, did Radditz pay attention to ANYTHING? Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose, "The only scouters that are supposed to exist, are issued through the PTO, CORRECT?"

"Y-yeah..?"

"So, why would we need a file on Freiza when we WORK for him?", Nappa offered.

"...oh, uh, yeah! That makes sense actually. Oh, wait, so what does that mean?"

Nappa sighed again, the answer lingering in the air.

It was a rebel's scouter.

* * *

God, that guy may have been short, but, JESUS, was he INTIMIDATING. Bulma's heart was beating so furiously she was surprised it didn't burst out of her chest. She dropped her head in her hands.

What the HELL was she going to do to get out of this one?! The asshole didn't even bother to lock the cell, which told her that he thought the action was pointless, which meant that the mother fucker was CONFIDENT that there was no where for her to run, and she fucking BELIEVED him. That man didn't seem like the type to waste his time doing anything unnecessary.

Which posed the question: why was she here?

Bulma folded her arms on her knees, propping her head on them.

The ship was obviously a piece of shit, it was probably a huge burden just having her as extra weight on the ship, never mind her breathing in the no doubt limited oxygen. She had to have been valuable to the men on the ship to be worth healing in a regeneration tank, right? RIGHT?

FUCK, she hoped she didn't answer one of the man's questions wrong and somehow made herself useless.

Maybe she could make herself more of an asset to the crew? The two giants had mentioned the communication chip was shot...maybe she could prove her worth by fixing it for them? It would be a small display of her mental prowess.

...she would have to be careful though. She didn't want to give them TOO much of a display.

She didn't trust them.

The two giants looked powerful beyond belief, but they seemed to be taking orders from the smallest guy, who must have been even stronger than they were. And the short maniac had said _Lord_ Freiza, so at the very least they must have worked for the tyrant himself.

No..she would have to tread lightly. For her own sake, and for Earth's.

She stood up.

Keeping Earth and her background a secret would be the absolute top priority, escaping would a very close second. For now, Bulma decided to play along with these three.

She opened the cell's gate.

Time to make her move.

* * *

"...Ohhhh. So it's a rebel's scouter then?", Radditz whistled, "Man, and a whole file on Freiza huh? Pretty slick."

Radditz and Nappa continued to chatter, and Vegeta tuned them out.

He had been so disappointed when she hadn't even flinched at the great reveal of the rebel scouter. He had wanted, desperately, for her to be a rebel. God's, he had been disappointed before, but this time, this time he felt real despair for the hope he felt die inside him.

When was the last time he had hoped for anything? Years ago, he decided. Years and years and years ago, when he was a child, and he decided, that when the hope had died his child self must have died too, and maybe even his heart.

When Vegeta had over-turned the little sack after Nappa gave it to him, when the little scouter fell into his hand, he felt his breath get caught in his throat. When he hooked the scouter over his ear, when he clicked the little thing on and Freiza's file came up on the screen, he could feel his heart beat hard. Scrolling through that file, reading all that there was to know about the tyrant, seeing the lists and lists of the lizards information, habits, possible weaknesses...how Vegeta's heart had sped up, the feeling of hope blossoming in his veins.

God's, he had been so ready to believe the girl was a rebel. He had needed it, desperate to believe he had finally had an in to the rumored rebel group.

Now the disappointment sat in his stomach like a dying fish, and the Prince of all Saiyan's, once again, didn't know what he was supposed to do.

"...Hey."

Nappa and Radditz whipped around, shouting at the blue haired-girl, "WHAT THE FUCK?" "STUPID BITCH, GET BACK IN YOUR CELL."

The woman didn't move, she didn't even look at the two giant men. Instead she stared straight into the eyes of the Saiyan Prince, her face stoney with resolve, "You're the leader here, right?"

Smart girl.

Vegeta turned his body away from the glass, facing the defiant woman. He didn't bother to answer, instead, he glared at the insolent whore. What did she say her name was again?

"I have a proposition for you.", she continued, and the Prince smirked at the ridiculous remark.

"Oh, you have a proposition DO you?", Vegeta walked up to the woman, standing so that he was just inches away from her face, "And what makes you think that you are in any position to be offering proposals, _whore_?"

"It's. BULMA.", she ground out, "And I think that it would be in your best interest to take me up on such a generous offer, buddy!"

His laugh came out cruel and deep, how absurd! He could practically hear the woman's heart beating out of her chest in fear, what could she possibly offer him beyond that of a dip between her legs?

Bulma's face turned red, cheeks puffing out comically before finally she turned away from him, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "FINE, what do I fucking care. Good luck surviving Freiza's wrath." The woman made to turn away, but Vegeta's arm shot out, grabbing her roughly by her forearm and spinning her back to him. "Explain. Now.", he ground out.

What trick did the little vixen have up her sleeve?

"Hmph.", she defiantly pointed her nose in the air, until the sound of a very impatient, very annoyed guttural growl left Vegeta's lip. "Err..", her tune changed, "..uh. Well, I can fix your communication chip."

The Prince raised an eyebrow, "And what use is that to me?" "U-uh. Well. Y-you could contact Freiza and-"

"And WHAT makes you think I want to contact Freiza?", he spat, shifting the woman's arm up and pulling her closer to his face. She cowered a little, hunching over to create distance between their bodies.

"T-the longer you don't contact hi-him, the w-worse it looks for you all, r-right?", she stood up a little straighter before continuing, "A brothel blows up, you guys steal a ship and go missing...Seems awfully coincidental, huh?"

The muscle in Vegeta's jaw tensed. He shot a look over Bulma's shoulder to Radditz and Nappa. The two giants instantly nodded, reading the expression for the silent command that it was. Simultaneously, the Saiyan subordinates let themselves into the brig, door sliding shut behind them.

Now alone, the Prince turned his angry glare back to the woman.

He knew she was repeating what Radditz was spewing out earlier, but it didn't make it any less true. The longer they were silent, the worst it would look in the eyes of Freiza. His eyes narrowed at the girl. "And you want to help out of the goodness of your heart, right?", he sneered, voice coming out low, "What game are you trying to play, whore?"

If she had caught the slur, she had chosen to ignore it. Instead the woman stared into his eyes, searching them as if an answer was to be found amongst them. Finally, she let out a little sigh.

"Honestly? I was going to try to win your trust...", Vegeta barked out a dark laugh, interrupting the woman's remark. She continued, "But I can see that such a tactic wouldn't work on someone like you."

"Oh, someone like me? And what type of person would that be?"

Again, she looked into his eyes in that searching manner, before continuing honestly, "...the type that's intelligent."

The two remained silent for a time before Vegeta drew the girl close to him, chests now touching. He lowered his lips to her ear, voice coming out low and angry, "Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't."

He moved his face to hers, inches away, his eyes boring into hers, searching just as she had done to him moments ago. She continued, "You shouldn't trust me. I will, at some point, try to escape. At some point I will _succeed_. But fixing the chip will benefit me as much as it will you."

There wasn't a shred of maliciousness in her eyes, not a hint of a lie. She was as genuine and honest as they came, and it made Vegeta uncomfortable. He stepped back, letting go of her arm, "And what benefit is that?"

A delicious hip pivoted and her arm came to rest at the curve of it, the woman's face splitting into a devilish smirk. Vegeta's heart betrayed him, speeding up at the cheek of Bulma's sudden cockiness. In a confident teasing voice, she answered: "An opportunity."

—

 _((Thank you thank you THANK you to everyone that has stuck through the story. I know it's been a long time for this chapter to come out, but if there's one thing I'm gonna promise all of you, it's this: This story WILL see it's end._

 _I have seen SO many beautifully written, so many riveting pieces of fanfic be published and never ever get finished. There is something so terribly sad about an unfinished story._

 _The good news is that the whole story is mapped out, hopefully making it easier to churn out chapters for you all. I also feel, not to toot my own horn here, that my writing has improved a teensy bit? I'm very proud of some parts of this chapter. Let's hope that the next one is even better!_

One last thing. If you would be so kind to review? I started this fanfic as a means to get some practice writting. Any and all criticism is most welcome! And please please PLEASE let me know if the formatting is a mess? This is my first fanfic, and I am finding that JUST when you think you know what you're doing on , it turns out you know jack shit.

 _Love you all, see ya in the next chapter! Bye bye!))_


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